Adverse Events Continued
by lost0and0found
Summary: The personal and professional paths of four young doctors cross and adverse events ensue. An 'Adverse Events' sequel. AU Lit.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer_ : _If I owned anything (which I don't), this would be happening onscreen._

 **A/N: I decided to update a sequel to this story. It's just too much fun to write to neglect. Hope you enjoy :)**

* * *

'Beck's triad.'

'Seriously.'

Jess shrugged, holding the textbook in one hand while lifting his beer can with the other. The break room was quiet saved for the rhythmical click of the ceiling fan.

Rory sighed defeatedly and closed her eyes, reciting.

'Hypotension, distended jugular veins and distant heart sounds. You may add Kussmaul's.'

'Cushing's response?'

'Okay, better. Hypertension, bradycardia and...' she narrowed her eyes.

Jess' expression was unreadable as to what the third symptom was saved for an amused sparkle, showing just how much he was enjoying this.

Rory snapped her fingers.

'It's apnea, isn't it?'

'Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't.'

'Come on, my exam is next week.'

'So?'

'So, you're supposed to help me study.'

'Here I thought that's exactly what I was doing.'

She rolled her eyes.

'It must be apnea.'

Jess' smirk widened.

'Standing for?'

'Late sign of rising intracranial pressure.'

He went through another couple of pages before picking the next question.

'Meralgia paraesthetica?'

She frowned. This had to be easy. She knew it. Absolutely. What was it? Algia stood for pain. Simple enough. And then...

'Give up?' Jess looked up from the exam book and drank from his beer.

'I know it,' Rory said quickly, eager to prevent him from telling her the answer.

'Uh-huh,' he rested back, watching her squirm.

'I do!' she insisted.

'Just tell me when you give up.'

He stretched his legs, crossing them at the ankles over the small coffee table.

'Is it... no, wait...' She squeezed her eyes in concentration. Then,

'Oh, I know, it's...' but then deflated, 'No. Or maybe... Hey, aren't you supposed to not be drinking on your shift?'

'Sure.'

'Then why are you?'

'Because my shift is over.'

'Since when?'

'Since two hours ago. So, meralgia?'

'Aargh,' she rubbed her palm against her forehead. 'Was it something hereditary?'

'Mmm,' he cupped his chin, feigning hard thinking, 'I don't know. Was it?'

'God, I hate you.'

'I stay overtime to help you study. You can't hate me, you owe me.'

'You're smug.'

'Like a goat.'

He lifted the textbook a little, giving it an emphatic nod.

'Darn, just tell me already, will you?'

'Ask me again. Naked.'

'Perv.'

Jess lifted his brows, amused.

'Outer thigh pain or numbness due to nerve compression.'

'I so knew this...'

'I'm sure you did.'

'You're enjoying this way too much for your own good,' she narrowed her eyes.

'Always one for the fun,' he shrugged.

She was about to retort when her mobile buzzed, so she had to set for sending him a glare before she took the call.

'Paris?' Jess nodded towards her mobile as she hung up a couple of minutes later.

'Huh.'

'What is it?'

'She wants me to babysit Josh while she and Doyle are on that Laparoscopy conference in Prague this weekend.'

'Doyle is going? I thought he had a strict _no-gut-photos_ policy.'

'I think the key phrase was Paris wants me to _babysit_.'

'I'll sell the tickets.'

'Why do you automatically assume it's gonna be a disaster?'

'You just did.'

'When I do it it's fun, when you do it it's nasty.'

'Good to know.'

'Plus, if I'm babysitting our godson, you're not getting away, you're helping me out.'

'Only Paris asked _you_.'

'She meant both.'

Jess narrowed his eyes.

'She said that specifically? She said I want you and Jess to babysit my toddler babyboy?'

'Well, no, but you're my extension since we're a couple.'

'Hundreds of years of fighting for woman's rights and that's where we get, men are enslaved.'

'Poor baby.'

Jess mock pouted.

A pager went off and both looked at the table.

'Mine,' Rory sighed. 'The interns must be here.'

'Go meet your minions,' he chuckled, taking his feet off the table. He downed his beer and aimed the can at the trash bin without bothering to stand up.

'I thought it would be fun,' Rory massaged her temples. 'You know, having interns, teaching them the depths of medicine, revisiting my own academic skills... I thought I wanted this.'

'And now you don't?' he stood up and stretched.

She let out a sigh.

'I didn't think of all the _time_ it would take. I'd rather go home with you and cuddle.'

'Then bail. Come home. We'll study,' he slid both hands around her waist, drawing her close.

'Aargh, I can't,' Rory groaned. His breath tickled her skin as he sighed into her neck. 'Although I wish.'

'I hate interns,' his lips brushed her ear.

A pager beeped again.

'Gotta go.'

'My offer still stands. My couch, you choose the junk and we watch something silly.'

She shook her head with a hardly suppressed grin.

'I may even give you some of my memos.'

Rory's head snapped up.

'You got memos?'

He shrugged, his smile becoming cunning.

'Maybe. I might even be willing to trade them.'

'I hate interns,' Rory groaned.

'Remember that when some Bieberistic kid tries to hit on you.'

'Will do. See ya.'

* * *

'This patient was admitted yesterday. These are his papers, will anyone try to report?'

Rory's politely enthusiastic look was met by six blank stares.

'Okaay,' she forced a smile, 'I'm gonna report then - Mr Kasey was admitted with chest pain and dyspnea, also palpitations and nausea. The complaints started abruptly about half an hour before the emergency team was onsite. What would your first differentials be?'

Six pairs of eyes started searching the wall for cracks.

'Here is the first ECG record... Anyone? Anything?'

Nothing.

Rory thought the only sound she heard was the one of the monitor over the patient's head. That, and the sound of the grass in the hospital yard growing.

'The patient was admitted with acute myocardial infarction and emergency PCI was performed finding acute occlusion of LAD.'

This was met by a silent 'O' from the interns.

'Okay, shall we move on to the next patient,' Rory let out an almost inaudible sigh. Almost. It was gonna be a long hour.

* * *

'Oh, look, that's him.'

'Gosh, he's so cool.'

'You heard he took a bullet out without anesthesia?'

'No. Really?'

'Yeah.

Rory threw the girls a quick look and then her face composed into determination. With a sly smile on her lips, she straightened up and approached the receptionist's desk.

'Hey.'

'Hey.' Jess turned slightly in her direction while still going through a patient's file.

'Just play along,' she whispered before taking his head between her palms and engaging his mouth in a lascivious kiss.

It took Jess a moment to react, but then he left the papers on the desk and lifted a hand to support her head as he returned the kiss, aligning his body with hers.

When she pulled back, his eyes locked with hers in confused amusement.

'See you later, teddy bear,' she said a tad louder than necessary.

She turned to go before the amazed girls.

'Sure... honey bee,' Jess called after her, also louder than necessary. She could hear the laughter in his voice, but he didn't let it out.

'You knew he had a girlfriend?'

'No, no idea.'

'Well, we should totally check on that neurosurgery guy, I heard he was even hotter and he removed a pineocytoma last month.'

* * *

'You're still on about the weekend, right?'

'Hello to you too, Paris,' Rory looked up from the patient's file she had been reading to see a flushed Paris enter the break room.

'Yes or no?' Paris asked on her way to her locker, starting to take her scrubs off on her way.

'Shoot. Actually, don't tell me if it's no. If it's no, I'm disowning you as Joshua's godmother. It's just a three letter word - you simply have to say it, so that I know I can confirm the plane tickets. Three letter word, Rory. It's called yes. I need you to say it. So?'

Paris was facing her in only her underwear and a surgical cap, a new pair of scrubs in her hand.

'Paris, breathe.'

'This is not a three letter word.'

'Listen, sit for a minute and relax.'

'Relax?. I don't have time to relax. I have to balance a toddler kid, a husband and a career. I'm as far from relaxing as a colonostoma is from romance. So? Are you still in for the weekend or no? Don't tell me if it's no.'

'Yes.'

'Yes what?.'

'Yes, Paris, I'm still on for the weekend. I'll have Jess over to help.'

Paris was now standing in the middle of the break room, adjusting her stethoscope.

'Good. Good.'

'What was wrong with the old pair of scrubs?'

'Got baby poop on the left shoulder. I put them on at home to save time, but Joshua's potty training went to shit. Literally.'

'Paris?'

'Eh?' she turned at the door.

'You sure there's no time in your schedule to relax? Even for a day?'

'Yeah. Pretty sure.'

'Okay.'

'Gotta go. There's an Indiana Pouch surgery I'm enlisted to watch. I'm gonna try and take a nap while they're scrubbing. Oh, by the way, how's residency going?'

'The exam is next week.'

'Good luck.'

'Thanks.'

'Paris?'

'Yeah?'

'I think my interns hate me. Or they're dumb. I'm not sure which.'

'Probably both. They don't know you though. Kick some ass and at least they're gonna come more prepared next time.'

'Than...,' Rory started but before she could finish Paris was already gone.

* * *

'Hey,' Jess turned the TV off and turned to face her.

'Hey.' she plopped down next to him on the sofa, leaving her keys on the side coffee table.

'Gah, I'm groggy. I'm beginning to think I should've taken up on your stay-on-the-couch-watch-something-silly offer.'

'Oh yeah?' he put an arm around her and she rested her head on his shoulder.

'Yeah.'

'So that was what today was about?'

She looked up to meet his amused look.

'Eh?'

'Today, receprionist desk, the _I'm-so-hot-for-you-teddy-bear_ thing?'

'Ah, _that_ thing,' Rory chuckled, resting her head back on his shoulder. 'Some bimbo students were fangirling about how awesome you are, so I decided to give them a little something.'

'Huh.'

'You can wipe the smirk off your face,' she said without needing to watch him to know he was gloating.

His smile grew even more smug.

'You're kind of popular these days,' she shrugged in self defense.

'That bothers you?' he narrowed his eyes, getting more serious.

'No,' Rory waved off. 'I mean, why would it? Why would some walking porn personifications who have been drooling all over you be of any significance... right?'

'Right.'

'And you wouldn't just go crazy about some brainless bimbo only because she's having a major intern-resident crush on you and she's willing to have you take her in one of the break rooms?'

'Someone said that specifically?'

She looked up.

'Eh?'

'Some of those girls said she wanted me to take her in one of the break rooms?'

Rory's chin dropped a notch before she realized he was hardly restraining his laughter.

'Jess!'

He was laughing out loud now.

'You're the one throwing random implications around, I'm simply playing along.'

She rolled her eyes and folded her arms stubbornly.

'Yeah. Whatever.'

He wiped his eyes and eyed her more closely. She was actually considering the possibility of him cheating on her with someone younger. Jeez.

'Wanna know why I look so irresistibly attractive these days?' he smirked.

'Do tell.'

'Because I'm happy.'

She looked at him as if he'd just said he was a pink flamingo.

'Don't look at me like that,' he shrugged, then lifted a hand to cup her cheek. 'I am.'

'That's a nice thing to say.'

'I _am_ nice,' he said mock offendedly, 'I was also hoping we could revisit that fantasy about break room sex and do something about it,' he smirked. 'Cause I'm game. Thoroughly.'

She rolled her eyes, trying to suppress her own smirk.

'I'm also all for spontaneous couch sex, just so you know.'

She swatted his shoulder but then snuggled closer, thankful another long day was over and she was finally home.

* * *

 **TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer_ : _I don't own anything._

* * *

'Do you think he's sleeping?' Jess whispered.

'Are you willing to go check?' Rory whispered back as they tiptoed into the living room.

They stopped and strained their ears.

'Nah,' Jess shook his head.

They sat down on the sofa.

'This is some tough kid,' Jess said looking at an indefinite spot ahead.

'Yeah,' Rory replied looking at the same indefinite spot. Then,

'Did you hear that?'

'What?'

'Was this a stray cat? Or was it a baby crying?' Rory looked around almost expecting said stray cat or baby to appear in the middle of her living room. 'Could he have woken up?'

'Damn. I don't know. You think?'

'Come on, go check,' she nudged him.

'Why me? You go check.'

'Come on, Jess.'

'Paris chose you. You're the senior babysitter. I'm only helping.'

'I have to go through my memos. The exam is next week.'

'Huh. When did you say Paris and Doyle were coming back?'

'Tomorrow, late afternoon.'

'Sweet Jesus. Another day of babysitting. What do they feed those nannies?'

'I don't know. I thought giving night shifts was tough but having a kid is... whoa.'

'Yeah.'

'You hungry?'

'Nah, I think I'm gonna keep staring at that blank spot for a while longer.'

'I'll keep you company. God, I'm so spent.'

'Yeah. Me too.'

'I'm so spent I'm not sure I wanna ever stand up from this sofa.'

'Even to go pee?'

'Eh. Gross. But yeah, even to go pee.'

'Yeah. Me too.'

'Are we gross?'

'I don't give a damn.'

'You're right. We should save our energy for tomorrow.'

A couple of minutes passed with neither of them breaking the silence. Then,

'You think we should check on him one more time, just in case?'

'Nah. If he wakes up he'll scream. Or something.'

'Yeah. You're probably right. All right then, let's resume our previous activity,' she rested her head on his shoulder and they stared at the wall some more. And it felt surprisingly delightful.

* * *

'Hey.'

Jess frowned when he didn't get an answer. She was sitting in the cafeteria, looking blankly at the sheet of paper in her hands.

'Ror?'

He sat down beside her, placing the lunch tray on the table.

'I thought you went to get your test results,' he half asked, half stated.

She gave him a stung look and he frowned, taking in her watery eyes.

'Shit. I'm sorry, Ror.'

She bit on her lower lip and looked up at the ceiling, trying to hold up a nonchalant face. As she blinked the first tear rolled down.

Jess moved his chair so he was facing her and took hold of her knees, moving her so she was facing him too.

'Hey.'

'It's stupid, I know,' she said in a huff, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand and blinking apprehensively, all the while avoiding his gaze.

'It's not. You tried really hard for this test.'

'Not hard enough.'

'Hey.'

She moved her look to a spot on the floor somewhere beside his right foot.

'I was so sure I'd take it. Hell, I thought I'd ace it.'

She wiped her eyes with both palms, pressing the backs of her hands against her eyelids as if in an attempt to block the oncoming tears.

'Damn, I'm making a scene in the middle of the cafeteria. I'm a complete mess.'

'Nevermind the cafeteria, you can be a mess wherever the hell you need to.'

'What if I don't have it in me?'

He frowned.

'Have what?'

'What it takes to be a doctor.'

'Rory, that's a stupid test you failed. Being a doctor has nothing to do with that.'

'Yeah. Only to be a doctor, you have to actually prove you're worth something.'

'And you are. You're worth so much more than some stupid test can prove. You don't have to prove anything. You're you, proof or not. And you're just fine.' He reached to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. 'You can't let one single test define you as a doctor. Hey, I helped you study, I know you're worth so much more than that.'

She looked at him as if he'd just slapped her.

'You helped me study. And I failed. Now I've failed you too. I'm so sorry, Jess.'

'You can't be serious.'

He took a closer look at her.

'You are serious. Damn, you're completely unadapted to failing, aren't you? Come on,' he put both hands around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. 'Let's get you outta here.'

'Where are we going?' she mumbled as he helped her stand up and started leading her out of the cafeteria.

'You don't wanna make a scene in the middle of the hospital cafeteria, do you?' he asked with emphatic shock. She gave him an incredulous look.

'There are more private places. Places where you can show your appreciation for my help.'

'Yeah?'

There was a hint of a smile in her voice.

'Hell yeah. I'm thinking a _Jess you're a god_ tattoo on your butt.'

She let out a half-sob, half-chuckle.

'You think I'm kidding, eh? If you don't cut the drama queen act, there's gonna be _Rory is a failing amoeba_ as a postscript.'

* * *

He picked on the third ring.

'How is slavery going?'

She let out an audible sigh.

'Futile.'

'That good?'

'Remember House and the Ducklings?'

'Em... yeah?'

'That's so not me right now.'

'Huh.'

'Anyway, listen. I need a quickie.'

'Now we're talking.'

'Metaphorically speaking.'

'Damn.'

'C'mon, I need your magnificent mind.'

'Huh? What about my magnificent - '

'Don't even finish this.'

'Okay, then,' he chuckled. 'I'm all about being used in more ways than one. Shoot.'

'How long does it take for Lyme carditis to draw a positive blood sample?'

'Hm, I don't know, a couple of weeks? Why?'

'I have a forty year old patient with high grade AV block and I have a gut feeling it's Lymes.'

'Got history of tick bite?'

'Not exactly.'

'Migrant arthritis?'

'Only knee pain.'

'Huh.'

There was a pause. A suppressed sigh.

'You don't think it's Lymes.'

'What?'

'You think I'm wrong.'

Okay. Where did that come from?

'I have no idea, Ror, I'm not even looking at the patient.'

'You think it's far fetched.'

'Ror.'

'Gah, I'm just shooting in the dark.'

'I thought you had a gut feeling,' he tried to joke. He knew it was not a good idea as soon as the words left his mouth.

'My gut can be pretty misleading.'

Damn. She was going there. In the dark and twisty place called self-blame. Jess took a breath.

'Run the tests.'

'He refused pacing. I didn't press too hard because I thought it must be Lymes and the AV block could reverse in a couple of days. If it's not Lymes he may die just because I couldn't convince him to have a pacemaker on time.'

'Rory. Run the tests.'

'Yeah. Okay.'

'Call me when you get the results.'

'It may be early to detect. Or it can be false positive. God, this is the longest quickie med quiz, isn't it?'

'Rory, you're exhausted. Take five. Run the tests. Then call me when you get the results, okay?'

'Okay.'

'You're doing fine.'

'Yeah.'

'You are,' he insisted.

He could literally hear her taking a breath.

He hated that she doubted herself. But failing a big exam could to that to a person, especially if the person was people pleaser and overachiever Rory Gilmore, queen of acing her tests.

'Just relax, okay? Cut yourself some slack.'

'Thanks, Jess. For letting me use you and all.'

He smirked.

'Be my guest. Now take your mind out of the gutter and I'll see you later, okay?'

'Okay.'

* * *

'He's late.' Rory said throwing a quick look at the wall clock.

'He working tonight?' Paris asked while kneeling next to Josh, handing him the plush dinosaur he'd just thrown at her. The kid immediately started thrashing it against the floor, letting out a pleased squeal.

'Daily shift,' Rory replied absently. 'He's late. Why is he late?'

'What do you think he's doing?'

Rory let out a frustrated sigh.

'Well, I was hoping he's been saving human lives.'

'As opposed to...?'

'As opposed to unraveling some of his basic instincts with some of his leggy interns.'

Paris held the pen she had meant to give Josh in midair. Josh reached up and took it.

'What?'

'They're crazy about him. He's the badass, sorry Josh - surgeon who doesn't give a shit, sorry Josh - about people's opinion. He's their Han Solo.'

Paris took the pen cap out of Josh's mouth and put it in her jeans pocket. He reached for a tissue and she handed it to him so he could draw with the pen.

'Stop apologizing to Josh when you cuss. It's undermining his right to cope with the real world. Plus since when is Jess a badass surgeon? I am the badass surgeon.'

'You're a mom first now.'

'Hey!' Paris stood up abruptly, pointing the plush dinosaur at Rory, 'What's that supposed to mean?.'

Rory wasn't even looking at her.

'It means he might be in the middle of something very graphic right now if he wants to.'

'And if he is?'

'Then I'm out.'

'And then what?'

'I don't know. A lot of ice cream. Probably some worthy self-pitying.'

'And then?'

'Then... heck, why are you asking me this?'

'Because you're the one who started it, I wanna see how far you're willing to go with it. So, then?'

'Then he moves on and I don't.'

'Oh, I know. He starts seeing some other girl,' Paris narrowed her eyes as if she was solving a puzzle.

Rory cringed.

'Shit. Sory Jo-... whatever.'

'She's a voice actress,' Paris continued, gaining confidence.

'What?.'

'She's Bloom.'

'Who?'

'Bloom from Winx. She's the voice.'

'She's not Bloom,' Rory rolled her eyes.

Paris folded her hands, challenging her.

'How do you know?'

'Come on, she's definitely not Bloom. Jess would never go out with a voice actress who's Bloom. He'd rather wear the man bun.'

'Jared Leto wears the man bun.'

'So does Johnny Depp.'

'As if you'd know who he's gonna go out with.'

'I do! I happen to be his girlfriend!'

'She's hot,' Paris nods emphatically. 'Redheads are hot.'

'Oh please.'

The front door clicked and Jess entered the room, taking his coat off.

'Hey. Oh hey Paris. Hey Josh.'

Josh let out a greeting grunt.

'What's up?' he asked as he left his keys over the desk.

'We were just discussing redheads,' Paris explained, ignoring Rory's pointed look.

'Cool,' Jess said kneeling next to Josh, giving him one of the car toys scattered around on the floor. 'Redheads are hot.'

'Told ya!' Paris clapped her hands.

'Yuk.'

'Are we having a redhead over for dinner?' Jess asked while pushing the car around Josh's feet, winning a cheerful chuckle.

'No, it's just Rory is having an insecurity fit now that she failed the exam and you're having less sex since she's depressed about the exam blah-blah...'

'Paris!' Rory yelped indignantly.

'What?.' Paris shrugged. 'Time is precious. Josh is gonna become crabby any minute now because he'll feel sleepy.'

'Well this doesn't give you the right to discuss my sex life,' Rory insisted.

'Wait, you have a seperate sex life?' Rory narrowed her eyes. 'I thought you two had...'

'Paris!' Rory's voice was unmistakably shrill.

'Okay, okay.' Paris waved her hand, as if dismissing the topic. 'What about your interns?'

'What about them?' Rory asked wryly, thankful they had at least moved on to another topic.

'Why are you letting them give you their crap? They're spoiled and lazy, you shouldn't be putting up with that.'

'And what do you suggest I do?'

'I don't know. Give them a lesson. No,' Paris rose a finger, 'Better, give them revenge.'

'Ladies,' Jess turned towards them, holding Josh in both hands. There was a sparkle of mischief dancing in his eyes as he spoke,

'I think I have the perfect idea.'

* * *

 **TBC**


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer : I own nothing, etc._

* * *

'This is Mister Eiji Funaki. He is your new patient today.'

'Konnichiwa,' the man gave them a polite nod.

The interns exchanged looks.

'He's been living in the States for two years and he understands a lot but only speaks Japanese. He says hello.'

The interns mumbled some greeting in reply.

'Nana korobi ya oki.'

'Fall seven times and stand up eight,' Rory translated. 'He congratulates you for taking the hard road of medicine.'

'Dare ga watashi no ishadearimasu?'

'Mr Funaki would like to know which one of you is his attending doctor.'

The interns looked at one another, hoping to stay unnoticed.

The patient gave them a warm smile.

'Hajimemashite.'

Rory gave them a look as if trying to decide whether to bother reporting.

'He came in last night,' she started, 'He was admitted for syncope when taking horizontal position. This has happened a couple of times in the past, last time was yesterday. His initial US showed a tumor mass in his left atrium. We're waiting for the cardiosurgeons to take him on from here.'

The interns' faces bore the same indifferent looks as always. This was a spectacular group of individuals gathered around the idea that the hours spent covering clinic duty were complete loss of their precious time.

Rory was about to say something else when her pager beeped. She gave it a look and her brows furrowed.

'Sorry, I have to take this. You'll be all right here?' she smiled apologetically. 'I won't be long.'

* * *

Hey, how's it going?'

Helen looked up from the patient's file.

'Oh hey, Rory. You got my page?'

'Sure. What have you got here?'

'We're prepping that lady for AVR. She was transferred with infective endocarditis.'

'You seen Jess?'

'They called him in as second assistant for the ileofemoral bypass in sixth,' she nodded towards one of the operation suits to their right. He was gonna wait after in order to watch the AVR.'

'Good.'

'Should I tell him you say hi?'

'Nah it's fine, I'll find him later. Where's the AVR scheduled?'

'Third floor, the operation suit with the big observation room.'

'Thanks, Helen.'

'Sure. Mm, Rory?'

'Yup?'

'Will you tell me why I had to page you with no obvious reason?'

'I will. Later. Now I'll take a look at this IE lady. Thanks, Helen.'

...

'Doctor Gilmore!' One of the interns came in, hardly catching his breath. 'The patient's crashing.'

Rory's brows furrowed.

'Which patient?'

'The Japanese man, he's... he's unconscious, the machines started beeping and everything went crazy...'

She started for the ICU with the intern on her heels.

'We've been looking for you but we didn't know your page number and he seized, doing this thing with his hands and feet and I don't know if he's alive and...' he continued his exasperated explanation on their way.

As they entered Mr Funaki's room, the man was lying motionlessly and the monitors were beeping. An ICU nurse was pushing the alarm buttons, shaking her head at Rory.

Rory ran to the patient's bed and checked his pulse, taking a quick look at the flat line on the monitor. Then checked his pupils and listened to his lungs before turning towards the interns, a hard look on her face.

'Wait outside.'

One of the girls stepped forward.

'Is... is he...'

'I said, wait for me outside,' Rory rose her voice making them jump a little.

The interns stood like paralyzed. A moment passed and nobody dared to move. Then, one by one, they left the room with slumped shoulders.

As the last one closed the door Rory turned towards the ICU nurse. The corners of their mouths quivered before they both burst into laughter.

'Can I open my eyes now?' Mr Funaki asked from the bed, a wide smile tugging at his own lips.

'You should've seen their faces. God,' Rory wiped a tear. 'Eiji, you're the best. This is good. This is so good.'

The nurse looked towards the door the interns had left through.

'I feel a little sorry for them,' she shrugged, meeting Rory's still amused look. 'They were so panicked. Totally oblivious. They didn't even notice I had taken the monitor leads off and that's why the ECG line went flat.'

Rory took a deep breath to calm her amusement. Then, as if suddenly reminded about something, she sobered.

'Dianne, did they at least try to resuscitate?'

The nurse shrugged sympathetically.

'They're still kids, Rory.'

'They didn't,' Rory shook her head incredulously. 'I can't believe it. They didn't even try to resuscitate.'

'When I say shocked, I mean it. Rory, they totally panicked. It wasn't a matter of choice.'

Rory wasn't listening, lost in her indignation.

'Damn, they didn't even care enough to know Eiji's name.'

'They called me Mister Fu a couple of times before they scattered to find you,' Eiji shrugged, resuming a sitting position in the bed.

Rory shook her head.

'They think this is a joke.'

'Well, technically...' Eiji started but Rory didn't let him finish.

'They shouldn't be here if they're not aware of the full extent of their own actions. Being here means taking responsibility. Another couple of years from now, they'll be in my place and their patient will be crashing for real.'

Rory took a breath, composing herself.

'Excuse me, I need to have a word with my interns.'

* * *

'Hello stranger.'

'Oh hey,' Jess turned to see Rory had already taken her seat and was saving one for him. He sat next to her and stretched his legs, crossing them at the ankles. He'd just come out of the ileofemoral bypass surgery and his body felt limp. He rubbed his eyes with point and middle finger, then removed his surgical cap. Rory ruffled his hair and he unconsciously leaned into her touch.

'You tired?' she asked.

He shrugged, suppressing a yawn.

'Nothing a long foot massage from my loving girlfriend can't fix.'

'Since when am I your personal feet masseuse?'

'Since when I'm your personal prank advisor,' he put an arm around her shoulders. 'How'd it go?'

Rory let out a delighted sigh, leaning her head against his bicep.

'I've never been more zen.'

He smirked, watching as the surgeons entered the operating room. The cardiopulmonary bypass machine was working, ready to cool the patient's blood during the surgery. The sterile green sheet was lifted to reveal the shiny intstrumentarium and the familiar rush of adrenaline coursed through Jess' veins.

'You know what the secret of zen is?' Rory asked. He could feel her breath tickling his ear. She was seemingly more interested in watching him than paying attention to what was going on down in the operation theater.

'Ehm, no?'

'Revenge. The little brats can try to get on my nerves again, I'm the shamanic princess of teachership.'

He chuckled.

'I knew you had it in you.'

'The zen?'

He smirked and kissed the top of her head. Down in the operating room they were starting the sternotomy.

'The prank side.'

She put a hand over his knee, starting a lazy eight over his thigh. Jess' brows rose. He was trying to balance his attention between the onset of the surgery and Rory's close proximity and the surgery was kinda rapidly losing momentum.

'One of the boys cried.'

'Oh.'

'The girls were close to silent hysterics.'

'Even better.'

'They didn't even try to resuscitate. According to Dianne they were too shocked to take action.'

'And according to you they weren't?'

'I don't care if they were kidnapped by aliens, they have to learn every action or lack of such has consequences.'

His brows moved up again.

'You're wicked. I like it.'

She leaned into him,

'Yeah,' she let out a happy sigh against his neck, continuing to draw eights along his thigh. 'I guess I can be quite...' her hand inched up, '... impish.'

As her nails grazed the fabric of his uniform over his left knee his leg jerked. With the surgery going on down in the operating room and Rory nuzzling him up in the dark observation room his mind was totally going into the gutter.

'Ror...'

'Yeah?' she squeezed his thigh gently. His uniform was getting tighter by the minute.

'Wha...' he swallowed with difficulty, 'what are you doing?'

'Why?' her fingertips paused their ascent inappropriately high over his thigh. 'Am I bothering you?'

He opened his mouth to say that hell yeah she was, but she chose that moment to drag her palm up and her fingers breezed over his crotch, making his breath hitch.

'Sweet baby Jesus,' he hissed. Then, more quietly, 'Rory, what the hell?.'

She gave him a quick peck on the jaw.

'Break room,' she whispered. 'Join me in five.' Then, after giving him a quick once over,- 'Or when you recover enough to walk.'

She gave him a wink, leaving him severely ditressed. And impatient to get to the break room.

* * *

 **TBC**


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine._

* * *

'I had a fight with Doyle.' **  
**

'Oh.'

'He thinks I'm neglecting him.'

'Are you?'

Paris' head snapped up.

'What kind of question is that? You're my friend, aren't you supposed to be on my side?'

'I'm on your side, Paris.'

'Then stop asking dumb questions.' Paris took a dried papaya out of the paper sack she was holding. 'Of course I'm neglecting him - I'm a working mother, I'm the definition of spent.'

Rory thought about replying to this but then thought it better to keep silent and just listen to see where Paris was going with her rant.

'How often do you and Jess have sex?'

Rory choked on her coffee and almost spilled it over Paris' couch.

So far with keeping silent.

'Eh?'

'How often? I mean, once or twice a week could be manageable... maybe twice would require both times to be in the same night but anyway - with Josh's molars emerging and my night shifts it's so much harder to get to see Doyle, let alone engage into a sexual activity.'

Rory blinked, trying to be stoically supportive.

'What does Doyle think?'

'He's just ready to take upon any opportunity. I, however, am not. After spending twelve hours in the operation room and then three hours trying to make Josh eat his dinner, put on a pair of pajamas and go to sleep I'm not exactly turned on. I'm so underslept, what I really crave is to sit on my couch and stare at a blank spot on the wall. Sex doesn't turn me on anymore, sleep does. I'm more excited to have sleep than I am to have sex with my husband. Or anyone at all,' she added as she saw Rory's incredulous expression.

'Oh.'

'Stop saying this.'

'Mm, saying what?'

'This - 'Oh'. It implies I'm gross. Or weird.'

'O-... sorry, not saying it anymore. You're not gross, Paris. Or weird. Well, sometimes a little bit but... - anyway, I think you're doing just fine.'

'I'm not,' Paris groaned. 'I'm totally failing. I'm failing everything I set out to do with my life. I can't keep up with my PHD schedule, my husband thinks I'm having an affair with my attendant because I'm sleepy and grumpy all the time, I'm an asshole parent, it's all a mess.'

'There's a lot on your mind, isn't there?'

'An awful lot.'

'But it's a good awful lot. Look, it's over your head right now but later there will be better times. Josh is growing up so fast, he's getting more and more independent and he won't always be so needy of your undivided attention. And work is... work. It just never ends. Doyle will come around, you'll see. You're both very exhausted right now. Anyone would cave in.'

'I don't know,' Paris sighed. 'I'm such a bad mom. Last night when we saw Josh had fever I was so pissed off. I was more concerned about not being able to leave him at daycare than about him being sick. I'd been planning to use those two free days to cover some PHD work and now I'm stuck with my lovable, smart and currently feverish child and I'm the worst mom in the world because I care about my profession more than I do about my only child. Gah,' Paris dropped her head against her knees, letting out a frustrated groan.

'Paris, you're simply tired,' Rory said gently, reaching out to touch Paris' shoulder. 'You didn't plan on staying home with Josh but here you're doing it anyway. Good moms do what needs to be done, no one said they're entitled to feel good about it. Sometimes doing the right thing sucks.'

They stood silent for a while, then Paris mumbled, still folded in two.

'Are you patting my shoulder?'

Rory took her hand away from Paris' shoulder.

'You're a good mom, Paris. A good mom who needs to have some sleep. Go have some sleep, I'll watch over Josh.'

Paris' head snapped up and there was incredulous hope in her eyes as she asked,

'You'll do that? Really?'

Rory rolled her eyes.

'Of course I'll do that. I'm your friend, Paris. This didn't expire when you became a mother.'

Paris' eyes grew so wide, they almost got wet.

'I think I might start crying.'

'Jeez, you really are spent. Come on, get your butt off the couch and go have some sleep.'

* * *

'What have we got here?'

'Multiple trauma, car hit a high school boy while he was hunting Pockemons.'

'No. Really?'

'Yep.'

'Yuk. Anyway, did he have a head scan?'

'Scheduled for now.'

'Okay,' Rory turned towards the interns, 'anyone who...'

Rory stopped and stared at the six hands in the air. Her interns were all willingly offering to participate in a case. Who knew life could surprise you like this. Paris could cry, interns could change. Life was good.

She stood straighter and sobered.

'Okay, Peter and Joyce - you go with the patient, everyone else - we're going to schedule the chest X-ray and you're gonna tell me the differentials of dyspnea after a car accident.'

* * *

'Wow.'

'What?'

'You're wearing your stethoscope. It must be something earth-shattering.'

'Ha-ha.'

'Come on, what is it?''

'What is what?'

'Well your case of course.'

Jess shrugged and joined her on her way to the elevator.

'My attendant called in sick.'

'And... you're gonna examine him?' Rory frowned incredulously.

'No.' Jess scratched the back of his head as he stepped into the elevator with Rory on his heel. 'He...' he puffed some air with his cheeks, 'He asked if I wanted his surgeries rescheduled so I could scrub in instead of him.'

Rory's eyes went wide.

'Really? Jess, this is great!'

The doors slid open and both came out.

'It's kinda badass, right?' Jess smirked.

'Totally badass.'

'His best assisting surgeon is gonna scrub in with me so I won't be entirely alo...'

She stopped and made him a sign to wait. He rose his brows questioningly. Then she surprised him by taking his face in her palms, giving him a loud smack on the lips. He blinked in a mixture of confusion and delight and she thought if his skin wasn't its natural olive color, maybe he would even blush a little.

They continued walking. As they reached the operation room doors, she took her pen out of her coat pocket, the glimmer of a secretive smile grazing her lips. She wrote something on the inside of her wrist and when she was finished, she lifted it for Jess to examine.

'DMR?' he asked incredulously.

'Standing for _Doctor Mariano Rocks,_ ' she gave him a wink.

'Oh.'

'I have it semi-tattooed now,' she waved her hand before his eyes, 'so it's as official as it can be.'

'Ehm... thanks. I guess.'

'You're welcome. Come on,' she nodded towards the operation room, 'go kick some ass. I'll order in and you're gonna tell me all about it when you come over for dinner.'

With that she turned and walked away, waving her hand with the wrist out.

* * *

'Clamp,' Jess demanded and the first surgical nurse put a clamp in his right hand.

'Aspiration.'

He took a closer look at the section of the liver he was supposed to resect.

'What is this?.' he whispered to himself.

The assisting surgeon bent to have a look, too.

'Doctor Randall said that's the section to be removed.'

'Yeah,' Jess paused for a moment and thought. 'Do you see this mass here though?' he pointed at the differently colored formation in the middle liver section.

'It could be a cyst,' the second surgeon shrugged.

'Or another meta,' Jess mumbled. 'Can we perform intraoperative US?'

'But in the protocol it's written this is a lateral liver secion resection.'

Jess made an effort to use his best laid-back tone,

'Yeah, I know doctor Randall left pretty detailed instructions in the protocol, but I strongly believe we could use the help of a radiologist and intraoperative ultrasound here.'

He turned towards the first surgical nurse.

'Elise, could you have someone phone Radiology and see if they have anyone available, cito.'

The nurse nodded reluctantly, her eyes moving between Jess and the other surgeon. Jess was in charge, though. He knew it. The second surgeon knew it. The nurse knew it. Eventually, she obeyed and went towards the back of the surgery room where she gave instructions to a nurse to contact Radiology.

'Do you know what you're doing?' the assisting surgeon asked Jess in a slightly worried voice.

Jess looked up.

'Yeah. Yeah, I believe I do.'

This was gonna be a long surgery.

* * *

'Hey, how'd it go?'

He took his messenger bag off his shoulder and kicked his shoes off.

'Other than the fact that I confronted my attendant by performing an out of protocol surgery and now I'm on top of his black list, it went okay.'

'Tell me everything,' she patted the couch for him to sit down next to her.

Ten minutes later, she was shaking her head in disbelief, sitting cross-legged on the couch with a plate of take-in.

'Wow.'

'Yeah.'

'No, really. _Wow_.'

He shrugged and took a sip from the beer he had taken out of the fridge.

'Being an underdog has its perks.'

Rory's brows rose questioningly.

'I'll have more free time to enjoy my badass teaching girlfriend.'

'You're not an underdog,' she shook her head. 'You were right.'

'Maybe I was just lucky,' he shrugged.

She rolled her eyes at his modesty.

'Maybe you were both,' she decided.

He smiled wryly and she gave him a knowing look. Usually they avoided talking about work in their time off. It wasn't always possible, but it was needed if they wanted to keep some sanity and not become obsessed burnout doctors at the age of thirty.

'You saw the art exhibition in the hospital foyer?' she turned towards him, changing topic and sneaking his beer to have a sip.

'No. Why?'

'It's gross. You should totally go see it.'

'Why? What is it?' he asked, sneaking his beer back.

'X-rays.'

'Oh.'

'X-rays supposed to represent love. You know - people kissing, holding hands... doing the nasty. All of it X-rayed.'

' _Oh._ '

'Yep.'

He took a breath.

'I think we should move in.'

'What?'

'I mean together. Like move in together.'

Rory stood straighter and blinked.

'I... I'll think about it. Is... is that okay?'

Jess ran a hand through his hair and moved to sit closer to her.

'You know, it could also mean _Don't Murder Rats_.'

'W- what?'

He took her hand in his and nodded at the now smudged letters on her inner wrist, running his thumb along the letters.

She chuckled.

'Or _Do More Rap_.'

' _Dwarf Master Roaches_.'

' _Dance Music Reporters_.'

She suddenly froze, giving him a struck look.

'Jess, we're moving in together.'

'Yeah.'

'I thought I'd think about it but...' she shook her head incredulously, surprised by her own reaction. 'I don't really need to think about it.'

'Yeah,' he smirked.

'We're practically living together anyways,' she continued reasoning.

'Pretty much,' he nodded, lifting his arm to loop around her shoulders.

'Damn.'

'Yeah.'

'I meant that as a good damn.'

'I know.'

They exchanged looks. His eyes flickered. Hers narrowed, knowing he was up to something.

He took her plate out of her hands and moved over her, starting to lower her onto the couch.

'What are you doing?' she chuckled, complying anyway.

He nuzzled her neck, his stubble eliciting a wave of shivers down her spine.

'What do you think?' he started leaving open-mouthed kisses down her neck, making her let out a hiss.

'This surgery must've been quite...' she licked a lip as he slid his palms up and down her ribs, hooking his thumbs on the waistband of her leggings and grazing the soft skin there '... exciting.'

'Due to your observation room performance last week, I can't go into a surgery without getting a hard-on,' he said in a lower voice.

'Oh.'

'It's quite...' he kissed the skin below her navel, 'distracting.'

'Is it?'

'Hell yeah.'

She took a breath but held it in for a second. He looked up, his eyes searching hers.

'Show me,' she whispered, her look holding his. His whole body stiffened, then he moved over her so that their eyes leveled and his fingers traced invisible strands of hair down her cheeks.

'You are amazing,' he said barely audible, his voice scratchy with emotion.

Her index traced his chin.

'Just the way I am,' she finished in a playful whisper, trying to lighten the mood.

'No,' he shook his head somberly and lowered his head to her ear. 'With your clothes off,' he whispered, making her burst into uncontrollable laughter.

They kissed and laughed, then kissed again, the thought that they'd never been happier at the back of their minds.

* * *

 **TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine._

* * *

Jess shoved his surgical cap into his back pocket and fished his mobile out.

She picked on the second ring with a nasal ' _Hey_.'

'Whoa, I was gonna ask you if you're feeling any better but I can hear the virus streaming through your voice, so that's kinda unnecessary.'

He heard her blowing her nose.

'Oh shut up.'

He smirked, making his way towards the hospital foyer.

'How about now?' she asked, trying to sound lively.

He stopped in front of a vending machine contemplating his choice.

'Yep,' he shook his head knowingly, 'it's getting worse by the minute. _Vader-ish_. Tell me you are my father. No wait - don't. I don't wanna fantasize about Vader in scarce lingerie.'

'Har-har.'

He balanced his mobile between his cheek and his shoulder while digging some change from his pocket.

'You cutting your _Kung-Fu Panda_ marathon?' he narrowed his eyes while straining to hear what was on her background. 'Shifu suddenly went off.'

'Yeah,' she sighed. 'I'm feeling clammy. Think I'm just gonna check my email and then have a nap. Being sick sucks.'

He moved his phone to the other hand to take his coffee from the vending machine.

'Hey, are you taking a coffee?' she sobered up.

'It could be tea you know.'

'Nah, this was definitely a coffee beep. Coffee beeps differently.'

'Sure it does.'

'I can just tell.'

'The viremia is clouding your brain.'

'Hey, have you met me? I have a coffee radar. Plus you're going to watch Robertson doing his remarkable liver transplant. You always take coffee instead of tea when you're about to watch a long surgery.'

'You're adorable.'

She groaned.

'If you don't stop mocking me I'm hanging up.'

'Hey, you like me mocking you.'

'Ehm, no I don't.'

He waved her off and drank from his coffee, heading for the observation room.

'Yes you do.'

'And why would that be?'

'Cause I feed you news on what's going on in the hospital while you're bored to death under the snot quarantine spell?'

Her tone changed by the minute.

'You got a new case? Oh, finally. Come on, is it a diagnostic enigma? An inoperable tumor? Pregnant hermaphrodite?'

Jess choked on his coffee.

'Jeez, Ror.'

'Please, Jess, my brain is agonizing! I need brain-food so badly. Be my savior, by all means, save me and I shall be saved.'

'You really are bored, aren't you?'

'You have no idea. I'm so bored I've been watching a youtube vid of green euglena eating.'

'I'm fascinated.'

'For an hour.'

'And profoundly impressed.'

'Phagocytosis is so gross.'

He let out a low chuckle.

'Come on, at least give me a glimpse - is it a surgical case?' she tried.

'Well,' he rubbed his jaw bemusedly, 'I'm willing to trade.'

'Mm, trade what?'

'Why information of course.'

'Really. I'm agonizing and at the end of my strength and you're willing to case-blackmail me.'

'Try me.'

'Okay,' he could almost hear the eyeroll in her voice. 'What do you want?'

'You're doing next week's grocery list.'

'This is it?'

'And the laundry.'

'Yuk.'

There was a short pause and then,

'Fine.'

He made a fist pump in the air.

'But just so you know,' she continued, 'you're violating my right to be properly pitied. Some would say this is a heartless thing coming from the closest person to my heart, both literally and metaphorically, but I won't go that far. I'd just like to stress on the fact that it's not everyday that I get sick, so instead of housework-blackmailing me, you could be doing some nice things for your girlfriend like making me some tea and massaging my feet. Is that clear?'

He listened to her tirade patiently, letting a small smile creep up his lips.

'You want this case or not?'

There was a sigh from the other end of the line.

'Next week's laundry, got it.'

He scratched the back of his head bemusedly and his eye caught sight of the wall clock above the observation room.

'Oh shit, I'm gonna be late for Robertson's liver transplant. I'm going in, I'll message you the details of the case.'

'What? No! We had a deal!'

'You're lucky I shot the patient files. See you at home, wifey.'

'Wait, Jess?... Jess!'

* * *

'Mariano?'

'Chief?'

'You have a minute?'

'Ehm, sure.'

Jess followed the older man, wondering what this was about.

'Have a seat,' dr Kingston gestured towards the leather armchair in his office.

Jess sat down.

'You've been watching Robertson's liver transplant?'

'Yeah. I mean, yes sir.'

'You're passionate about surgery, I like this. How long have you been working here, Jess?'

'Four years,' Jess replied, trying to figure out when exactly he and the chief of the surgery department had moved on to a first name basis.

'Good,' dr Kingston smiled. 'Good. You like working here, son?'

Son? _Son?_.

Jess straightened up in the leather armchair. It screeched unpleasantly.

'Yes.'

'Good.' The Chief's smile went even wider. 'I have some big plans for you, my boy.'

* * *

'Where is my snotty princess?'

'Yuk. You're gross.'

'You're the one spilling mucus all over the place. I thought the snotty one was supposed to be gross.'

She rolled her eyes.

'Right. Whatever.'

'Hey,' he reached out and hooked an arm around her torso, drawing her closer. She muttered a protest. He smirked and cupped her chin, tilting her head up. 'I wasn't mocking you.'

'Eh?'

'When I said you're adorable. I meant it.'

'I thought I was gross,' she challenged.

'I'm kinky,' he shrugged and ran his fingers through her hair, combing the bangs back. 'Plus you have a great ass.'

'Gee thanks.'

He slid a hand beneath her hoodie and spanned his palm against her back, pulling her close.

'You're welcome.'

She leaned into him and touched her nose to his ear.

'You are pretty awesome yourself, Doctor Mariano.'

'Jeez, you're hot.'

'I change my mind. You're not kinky, you're appreciative. Full of cheese but appreciative.'

'No, I mean literally.' He drew back and raised a hand to touch her forehead. 'You're burning.'

'Damn. This means no funny business tonight, eh?'

'Come on, let's get you into the bed, I'm gonna make you some tea and then massage your feet.'

'Good boy,' she patted his shoulder while he nursed her to the bedroom.

'It's TBC,' she mumbled when he put her on the bed and tucked her in.

He gave her a questioning look.

'Your patient. It's TBC. I looked through the imaging a hundred times, he's got lytic spinal bone lesions consistent with the masses in his lungs. You should run PCR and isolate the Mycobacterial complex.'

He smiled and brushed a stray hair from her forehead.

'I will.'

'Good.'

'But first I will take care of my own girlfriend.'  
She smiled while drifting to sleep, vaguely thinking she should question him how his day had been.

* * *

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine, etc.  
_

* * *

'It's called munch,' Rory explained as she led the way carrying her lunch box in both hands.

'And that's because...' he gave her a questioning look while keeping up with her, his own lunch box under one arm.

'Because we listen to a couple of songs while we have lunch. Duh.'

'Right.'

'No, listen,' she stopped and put up a hand, palm out, '- it's brilliant. Helps you forget about everything, and I mean _everything_ while simply listening to the music having lunch.'

Now he was fully smirking.

'You're seriously telling me that's what you've been doing all these times I caught you sneaking around with Paris instead of making out with me?'

'Yuk. Sounds wrong on so many levels but yeah, we were having munch.'

'You were listening to a song and having lunch.'

'A couple of songs depending on our schedule but yeah.'

'And you don't talk about work.'

'It's strictly against munch rules to discuss work during munch. Or boyfriends. We don't discuss boyfriends either.'

An amused sparkle tickled the corners of his eyes. They had stopped in front of a storage room.

'What do you talk about then?'

She gave him an estimating look, then motioned for him to walk into the storage room with her.

'Come on, I'll let you have munch with me.'

He looked to both sides before he followed her, checking if someone was watching. No one was. The corridors were busy with everyone hurrying to deal with their everyday assignments. There was the sound of stretchers being pulled, monitors beeping, ambulance sirens on the background.

'And this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship.'

She rolled her eyes.

'Your mind. Out of the gutter.'

Once the door closed, the hospital buzz suddenly died out, muffled. Suddenly, it was irrelevant. Rory nodded towards the floor.

'Put your lunchbox down and sit next to it. Get comfortable, this is a once in a lifetime experience.'

'I like the way you think,' he smirked, doing as he was told.

She did likewise and when both were sitting cross-legged on the floor, she took her mobile out.

'What now?'

She picked a song and put it on.

'Now you listen.'

The song was slow and the female lead sounded distant and melancholic. _Eerie_.

Jess' nose wrinkled.

'What's this?'

'Fleurie.'

'She sounds like a creeper.'

'What do you think about?' Rory asked, digging into her lunch.

'Right now?' he rose an eyebrow.

'Right now.'

'23-year old guy, was in a car accident and his arm was smashed under the...'

'No talking about work.'

'But you asked...'

'The song. Tell me about the song.'

He paused for a moment and shrugged, waving his fork towards Rory's mobile.

'I don't know. What is there to tell?'

'I think this is Red's song,' she said dreamily. 'I think Red Riding Hood would sing something like that while walking alone in the woods.'

He cocked an eyebrow.

'Red Riding Hood is a nympho?'

'Why not?' she shrugged. 'Who walks alone in the woods?'

He smirked, visibly relaxing, gradually easing into the song.

'Creepers.'

'Exactly. Red is a tough one. She could handle the wolf without the hunstman, she just needed to figure out how. Do you think she wanted for the assault to happen, you know - by going alone in he woods on purpose and all...'

'Now you are a creeper. I didn't know you had a rapist's mind. I'm still struggling to decide if I should be more grossed out or excited about it.'

'I'm just speculating,' she shrugged. 'You can wipe the smirk off your face.'

'What about the grandma?'

'What about her?'

'Who lets their little grandchild wander alone in the woods?'

'Well the Grandma's ill. She can't take care of herself, that's why she needed the help.'

'What about the mother? You think she hates her mother in law and that's why she won't take food to her own husband's ill mother?'

'Hm. Possibly. What about the wolf?'

'You mean the messed up guy who likes to cross-dress.'

'Do you think in an alternate universe they would have a chance at Stockholm syndrome?'

'I don't know Sigmund, would they?'

A pager beeped. Both checked in their scrubs pockets.

'It's me,' Rory sighed. She stuck a mouthful of Chinese in her mouth before standing up.

'To be continued,' she gestured between her mobile and Jess.

'Oh, definitely,' Jess cocked his head to the side, watching as she started to leave.

'Will I see you tomorrow?' she turned at the door. 'I'm covering for Grace tonight so I won't be home until seven-ish tomorrow morning.'

'Tomorrow I'm off.'

'Cool. We'll think of something, okay? See you.'

'See you... _perv_.'

Her melodic laughter was the only response he got before he was left alone smiling like a goof.

* * *

'Doctor Gilmore?'

'Hey, John,' she greeted the paramedic and took her stethoscope and hung it around her neck . 'What have you got?'

'Eighty-four year old man, several ax cuts over the top of his head.'

'Wait... what?'

'Long or short version?'

'Short.'

'He tried to split his head with an ax.'

Rory blinked stoically, absorbing the information.

'Any previous suicide attempts?'

'None that we know of. His daughter found him at the back of the house, he was stone frozen. He must've spent hours outside.'

'Was he conscious when you first saw him?'

'Glasgow eleven.'

'Right.'

She paused for a second, then turned towards Helen.

'Helen, we'll need gloves, sterile gauze, antibiotic powder and suture kit. Check up with the X-ray lab, after i clean up the wounds we're gonna get him a CT scan. Observatio calvarial fracture. And get me some Dermabond, too, I have a feeling we might need it.'

She rounded the stretcher where the man was lying and suppressed the question that almost silenced every other thought in her head. _Why?_

* * *

It took Jess a while to localize the exact cause of the buzz that woke him up.

He picked up, rubbing his palm up and down his face.

'Ror?'

He could hear the monitors around her beeping, he could also discern Helen's voice in the background.

'Sorry I woke you,' she said exasperatedly, 'I just needed to tell you something.'

'Is everything okay?' he sobered up.

'No, get him the fentanyl. Put him on the stretcher behind curtain seven,' she said somewhere to the side of the mic, then put the phone back close to her mouth. 'Sorry. Yeah, everything's okay. I just wanted to tell you something really important.'

Jess sat up straighter in the bed.

'O-kay.'

'I love you.'

He blinked, pretty sure he had misheard. He was probably having a dream. Some crazy, cheesy chic dream. Right.

'I know the first time I say this it was supposed to be a big deal with fanfares and atmosphere and - I don't know, at least I should've been supposed to say it in person. But I just felt the need to call and I'm in the middle of my night shift and there's a man with a chopped head and also a train crash with a dozen injured people and it's crazy.'

She paused, again talking away from the mic.

'I'm coming, just give me a sec, okay?'

Then again on the mic.

'Sorry. I have to get back. Look, I needed to say it and you're home and I just... thought it was right to let you know. That I love you. Because I do.'

Jess was still blinking, processing her ramble.

'You're okay... right?' he managed to form.

Her reply was fast.

'Yeah.'

He could hear her let out a frustrated sigh. She was spent. Some shifts were like that.

'Yeah, I am,' she said.

He smirked.

'Good. 'Cause I love you too.'

They stood with their mobiles pressed to their cheeks and for a moment time stood still and the ER noise was hardly audible and the world made sense.

Maybe there were no right and wrong moments to proclaim your love. As long as there was someone who made you want to wake up another day and made it worth it, it felt like the right thing to do to let them know. And life was a mess. But there was also purpose and meaning behind it, and it didn't feel entirely hopeless.

'See you later?' His voice was first to break the silence and bring them back to reality.

'Yeah. See you.'

'And, Ror?'

'Yeah?'

'DGAR.'

'...'

'Doctor Gilmore also rocks.'

Her chuckle sounded clearly before the line disconnected.

* * *

 **TBC**


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine, etc.  
_

* * *

'You're up early,' she smiled as she entered the bedroom and put her travel bag down.

Jess was lying on his side of the bed with his arms folded under his head. He was clad in a pair of jeans and tee but his feet were bare and his hair was still damp from his morning shower.

'Hey,' he smiled back. 'How was Stars Hollow?'

'Okay,' she shrugged and took her jacket off, kicking her shoes to the side. 'Mom is freaking out about having to drink decaf, Luke is reading parenthood advise books like crazy and my grandparents are finally coming around the idea of redecorating one of the guest rooms in Spiderman wallpaper.'

She sat down next to him on his end of the bed.

'You're already up and showered,' she smiled appreciatively, 'Missed me that much?'

'Actually, I'm supposed to scrub in in about forty minutes.'

'Wait, isn't it your day off today?'

'Was,' he shrugged. 'Got called in. Kingston,' he added as he met her questioning look.

'Oh, you're thick with the Chief now,' she teased as she edged towards him.

'Nah. He's just doing me a favor by tutoring me.'

She reached forward to touch his chest.

'Mariano, everyone should be lucky to have you on their team, Chief or not.'

He narrowed his eyes in amusement.

'You're sweet-talking me. You want something, don't you?' he smirked.

'Well,' she shrugged, lifting one end of his tee and sliding her palm up. His abs flexed under her fingers and a lazy smile grazed her lips. 'I was kinda hoping we would see more of each other once I'm back and we're both off schedule.'

Her palm was slowly inching up, her nails grazing the taut skin slightly but purposefully.

His look grew less amused and more intense. His arms were tense under his head, his biceps clearly defined. Her eyes skimmed up his frame, glad to find him affected.

'It sucks we've both got schedules to run by,' she pouted, sliding a second palm under his tee.

She shifted so that both her knees were on the bed and she was hovering over him.

'Do you have any idea when you're about to be...' her hand headed towards his belt buckle, lifting her brows teasingly '... _off_?' she leaned in and pressed her lips to his throat. 'Because I'm more than willing to keep you company.'

She felt him swallow with difficulty and smiled contently.

Then a pair of hands gripped her waist and flipped her over so that she was on her back and he was hovering over her.

'Are you trying to kill me?' he sighed in her hair.

'Hm, I thought I was trying to have sex with you.'

'I'm gonna be so late,' he mumbled, bringing her arms up, their fingers intertwining against the pillow. As he dipped his head down their lips met mid-smile.

* * *

'Jess?'

He looked up from the patient's file.

'Oh hey, Paris.'

She approached him at the receptionist's desk where he'd been filling into the file.

'Can I have a word?'

'Sure.'

'In private,' she added. He stopped writing and looked up at her, finding her visibly awkward.

'O-kay,' he closed the file and made her a sign to lead the way.

She led him into an empty exam room. Once they walked in, Paris moved to shut the blinds.

He looked around, not sure whether to be amused or worried.

'I heard you're working with Kingston on his new project,' she started directly, not giving him a chance to form a question.

He lit up. So that was what this was about.

'Yeah. Rory told you?'

'Rory told me.' Paris sighed.

'It's kinda cool, what do you think?'

'Look, Jess...'

'I can tell Kingston a word if you wanna join in.'

'What?.'

'I mean, if you can spare the time, with Josh and Doyle and your PHD. I know you may not have a lot of free time but he's good, and I mean like really good and I'm sure he'll want someone with your drive in his team.'

'Jess, I'm not looking for a shortcut to Kingston's team.'

'Oh. Okay.' he nodded, a little confused.

'I...' she started pacing to and fro. 'Damn, I don't know how to say this.'

'Hey, Paris,' he took hold of her arms, stopping her. 'That's me, Jess. You can tell me, okay?'

'Don't work with him,' she spilled out.

Once the words were out, Paris looked just as lost on what was happening as Jess was.

'What?' he asked after a couple of seconds.

'I know he's the Chief and he's got all this badass halo about him but there's just something... _shady_ about this project and I don't want you getting into trouble.'

'Specify,' Jess crossed his arms before his chest expectantly. If she was throwing random accusations she couldn't expect him to just go with them. Or did she?

'I can't.'

'How come?'

'I wasn't supposed to get the information in the first place.'

'What information?'

'The piece I wasn't supposed to find out.'

'But you did.'

'Yeah.'

'Then tell me.'

'I can't.'

'Paris, you do realize how ridiculous this is starting to sound, right?'

'Can't you just trust me with this?'

'Jeez I don't know, Paris, can't you just trust _me_?'

'You don't know what you're getting into.'

He rose his hands in the air in exasperation.

'Then tell me. Jesus.'

'Why did Kingston pick you? Have you ever thought about this?'

'Of course I have.'

'And?'

'And he's lucky to have me in his team. What do you want me to say?'

She stood before him, struggling to find the right words.

'You're one of his youngest interns. You have little to no experience in such projects. Why did he insist that you and no other but you were the one to join his team?'

Those weren't the right words.

'Because I'm damn good at what I do, that's why.'

Paris huffed, frustrated.

'You know what?' he asked, his anger audible, 'Forget about this. Let's pretend the last five minutes of embarrassing conversation didn't happen and you didn't just call me incompetent, so we can start acting normal again.'

She wasn't listening to him, shaking her head.

'Stay away from Kingston, Jess.'

'Seriously, Paris. That's enough.'

'I don't know what his scheme is, but I can feel he's up to something.'

He rubbed his jaw with a bitter smile.

'I thought after becoming a mom you wouldn't do this.'

'Do what?'

'This - obsess over work.'

'What does being a mom have to do with this?'

'Oh come on.'

'No - _you_ come on, Jess. Say what you were going to say.'

He gripped the back of his neck and shook his head.

'Doesn't matter.'

'Like hell it doesn't. Just say it.'

'Are you really worried about me?'

She crossed her hands before her chest.

'As opposed to?'

'As opposed to giving me shit about getting something you didn't.'

'Seriously, Jess?'

She couldn't believe her ears. Of all chauvinistic and self-absorbed assumptions, he had to pick this one.

'This didn't come out right,' she shook her head and stepped closer to him to give him a look. ' _Seriously,_ Jess?'

He kept silent, not really having anything to add.

She huffed in disappointment.

He rubbed his jaw.

Paris started to leave but paused shaking her head, as if losing a battle against herself, and turned to him.

'Just... keep your eyes open, okay?'

He looked up at her and their eyes locked in silent battle. In a while Paris let out a sigh.

'Fine then.'

And left him fighting with the urge to follow her and fix this.

* * *

'Doctor Mariano?'

The surgical light was bright over the sterile sheet, cut so that the operative field was clearly visible.

'Doctor Mariano?' the surgical nurse repeated.

Jess looked up, holding the scalpel.

'Which set do you want me to open?'

 _This is gonna be the surgery of the century, my boy._

 _With all due respect, Chief, but if it's not gonna work, it's gonna be the fail of the century._

 _Nothing great is ever done through self-doubt, son. Have a little faith._

Jess sobered up, holding the scalpel firm in his hand.

* * *

'He's acting irrational.'

'Paris.'

'He's Jess, of course he's acting irrational, but he's also never been systematically irrational. You know what I mean? It's not like him. Unless, of course, he's in love. When he started falling for you he went kinda bananas. His circulation had redirected majorly leaving his brain in danger of ischemic stroke. All those high dopamine levels make the male brain gooey.'

She went stiff as if she some new idea just occurred to her.

'Rory, do you think he's in love with Kingston? You would've noticed if he's turned gay... right?

Then, with a notion of accusation,

'You're his girlfriend.'

'Paris!' Rory tried to sound condescending but she couldn't cover the laughter in her voice.

'I just don't get it,' Paris let out an emphatic sigh. 'What do they need him for?'

'Paris, can you try to put your relationship problems with my boyfriend aside for three minutes and just focus?'

'Well, it's not my fault your boyfriend happens to be very frustrating.'

'Actually, he was your friend before he became my boyfriend so the cause effect relationship is in your garden.'

'But he's your boyfriend now. Aren't you suppose to, I don't know - enslave him or something?'

'Sure. Just tell me what you want him to do and I'll make him.'

Paris lit up.

'You will make him step off Kingston's case?'

Rory narrowed her eyes.

'Why do you want him off Kingston's case so badly?'

'Really? You're gonna pull this on me? Again?'

'Actually, I haven't...'

'Jess did and he's like a projection of you, so technically you did. And we're fighting, you and me. By projection I mean.'

'Paris, I have an offer for you.'

'Yeah?'

'Let's pretend the last five minutes of embarrassing conversation didn't happen so we can continue with our munch.'

'You're in love with him. Right? I mean, I knew I was into Doyle the moment I felt like breaking fine furniture into his head.'

Rory thought for a moment.

'I could break fine furniture in Jess' head. Although lately it sems you're more into it.'

Paris didn't reply, only sulked.

Rory sighed.

'Look, you care.'

If Paris could sulk any more than she already was, she did.

'Paris, you'll figure things out with my boyfriend who you just admitted you deeply care about.'

'Yeah. Whatever.'

Rory only shook her head with a silent smile.

'You' ll keep an eye on him?' Paris asked.

'Does Rambo wear a headband?'

'Okay then,' she sighed defeatly. 'Let's have munch.'

* * *

 **TBC**


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer_ _: I own nothing, etc._

 **A/N: Jess-centric. Enjoy :) _  
_**

* * *

'Hey.'

'Hey.'

'How are my interns?'

Jess groaned from the other end of the line.

'How do you even go through a day with those slackers?'

'What do you mean?'

'You better prepare some voluptuous outfit for when you come back, my mind needs to be numbed and then nurtured back to life.'

Rory suppressed a laugh.

'Hey, they're not that bad.'

'Are you kidding me? They're boring as hell.'

Ah, boring they were. Yet, they were her students. She'd reached some mutual understanding with them and it was getting a little better every day. Something along the line of _'Don't push my buttons and maybe (just maybe) I'll give you my memos.'_

'Well, they're a little slow to adapt,' she tried.

'Huh.'

'Come on, we were the same way when we started,' she pointed out wisely, but then thought twice. 'Well, at least I was. You were rather like a magical surgery unicorn.'

She was supposed to stand up for her students but she couldn't not acknowledge the fact that not every young doctor was dorky and insecure. She remembered those first days when she saw him for the first time. Yeah, there were those few chosen ones who knew damn well what they were doing ever since day one. Or at least so it seemed.

'That's right - I was born to shine. And you had the doctor Quinn syndrome.'

She let out a disapproving grunt which he ignored.

'Only you were way hotter,' he added with, she could swear on it, a notch of nostalgia in his voice.

'Really?' she shook her head in amused disbelief. 'That's my most redeeming quality?'

'Why not? Wanting to jump someone's bones helps you neglect said person's rookie-irksomeness.'

It was official. Jess Mariano could actually mope around.

'Okay, did you just use the word irksomeness?'

He sulked for a moment before answering.

'Maybe.'

She shook her head, bemused.

'Your sex-deprived brain is degrading.'

'My sex-deprived brain is working on overdrive inventing more and more ways how you can repay me.'

'Wow.'

'I'm filling in for you with your boring as hell interns while you're wiping baby poop. Believe me, I'm getting more inventive with each passing day.'

She was laughing out loud now.

'One more week, hubby.'

The air was suddenly kicked out of his lungs.

'One week?. What happened to coming back this weekend?'

She sighed, feeling bad already.

'I know, I'm sorry.'

'How do you expect me to go through another week?'

Who knew Jess' voice could get screechy? Huh.

'You'll survive.'

'Wouldn't bet my grandma's fortune on that.'

She could almost see him pout.

'Hardships help you develop your chi, kumar.'

'Hare Krishna,' he replied with such lack of enthusiasm she felt a genuine pang of guilt.

For a badass surgeon, he was such a whiny baby when he missed her. He didn't even try to conceal it. Whenever she was away he missed her badly and it messed with his head. Surely, she missed him too, but he was handling it way worse. She decided to give him a little something.

'While in Hartford, I did some shopping.'

'Go _Walmart_.'

'I bought some stuff for Josh and Kevin,' she continued. 'I'm still warming up to the fact they're naming my brother Kevin. It's not like we have any significant Kevins around. I mean, at least not around the Gilmore family. Then again, there's always Kevin Spacey and Kevin from _Home Alone_ and I only feel deep respect for Spacey but it's still new. It's just gonna take some getting used to, I guess. What was I saying? Ah, yeah. I did some shopping. That voluptuous outfit you mentioned - you got it.'

His voice came out choked.

'W-what?'

' _Victoria Secret_ might actually wanna hire, that's how good it looked when I tried it on.'

There was only his hitched breathing at the other end, so she decided she might as well tease him some more.

'Remember that white lacey stuff I was wearing on New Year's eve?'

His voice was thick.

'Yeah.'

Of course he remembered. He'd almost molested her in the taxi on their way back. As soon as they'd gotten into the elevator, he'd been like a hormone-addled teenager and the fact that she was particularly gropey that night didn't help. Best sleepless night ever.

Her voice brought him back to reality.

'This is so much better,' she singsonged. 'Like, you might actually cry.'

'Fuck.'

'Two words.'

She paused, thinking if she should actually torture him like this.

Hell yeah.

'Garter belt.'

She couldn't hear him breathe anymore. Yep. Absolutely flustered.

'Miss me and I'll make it up to you when I come back next week, hubby.'

* * *

'Now, this is doctor Jess Mariano,' Jess lifted the red action figure, 'And this is his evil Italian twin-brother,' he explained, lifting the black action figure. 'Red one is conventional state doctor while black one can do whatever the hell he pleases.'

He narrowed his eyes, studying the interns. Their faces were frozen into a mixture between confusion and awe-struck expression. Jess sighed emphatically.

'We're gonna play a game - it's called interns are losers. You with me?'

Blank. Gah, how was he supposed to make this week's rounds interesting if he were given such meek material? Those students were lifeless. That's how boring they were. Meh.

He pushed the two boxes forward. The red one was full of Maximals and the black one - with Predacons.

'So here's the deal. Team red - follow protocol, team black - move your derrieres and be inventive. Here's your case. Whichever team is first to diagnose the patient goes free from Geriatrics next week.'

'Ehm, excuse me, doctor Mariano,' one of the interns lifted her hand, 'but Geriatrics isn't on our schedule.'

Jess turned towards the girl with the best calm expression he could muster. She moved uncomfortably into her chair.

'That's exactly why I enlisted you for voluntary aid,' he beamed at her. 'Anyone else have a dumb question?' he asked then, leaning both palms against the desk.

The interns didn't dare breathe.

'Okay then. Don't let me waste any more of your valuable time, get up and solve this case post pubescent minions!'

The interns exchanged looks and started moving. _Finally_.

Aargh. Rory owed him. Big time.

* * *

The middle-aged man finally caught up with Jess, breathing heavily under his short mustache.

'Doctor Jess Mariano?'

Jess turned towards the man.

'That would be me. And you are?'

'My name is Simon Perkins and I need you to operate on my tumor.'

...

'This is the original tumor,' Jess pointed at the CT scan that was placed on the view box. 'It starts from his left kidney and invades the whole vessel tree to the vena cava with right atrium thrombi.'

'You understand the implications of such extensive operation, right?' Dr Kingston rubbed his chin thoughtfully. He was thinking about it.

'The patient realizes there's no other effective alternative treatment,' Jess explained. He had thought about it too.

'Group four renal cell carcinoma,' Kingston said, as if tasting how the phrase rolled off his tongue. Sure as hell it would make a good news headline.

Jess studied the Chief apprehensively, waiting for his decision.

'Do a MRI scan, repeat the ultrasound and we'll discuss the results.'

Jess let a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

'Mariano, I want every patient's file you can get your hands on, also a review on each surgical protocol they used. I'll make a few calls, see if we can get some extra support. If we're doing this, I want you one hundred percent focused.'

'Yes, Chief.'

'Arrange all of your surgeries to be rescheduled and prepare a sample surgical protocol...'

He paused, studying Jess.

'You with me, Mariano?'

Jess sobered up.

'Yes, Chief. Yes I am.'

'Good. If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do it right.'

* * *

'Here, use this.' Jess passed Simon a napkin so that he could wipe the ultrasound gel from his chest and abdomen.

Jess took the printed US images and checked them again.

'It's really happening, isn't it?' Simon asked.

'The Chief scheduled your surgery for Friday.'

They had ordered the special soft-blade occlusive clamp they would use across the porta hepatis, the vena cava filter for avoiding embolism was already labeled for the surgery, the cardiopulmonary bypass machine was scheduled for Friday. They had gone through Jess' sample protocol, planning the surgery step by step. Jess had spent hours in one of the empty examination rooms, repeating the hepatic mobilization technique and Pringle's maneuver. They would use deep hypothermic circulatory arrest to open the right atrium for extracting the tumor thrombus thus maintaining a relatively bloodless field. He had imagined the exact positions of the cannulae, the cross-clamp across the ascending aorta. This surgery was really happening. If it was a success, it was gonna be a major breakthrough.

'Who are these?' the patient's voice brought Jess back to reality.

Jess looked over to where Simon was pointing at the interns who could be seen through the exam room window. The guys looked frantic, writing in patient's files, lost in thought while almost bumping into the numerous stretchers along the corridor.

Jess suppressed an amused smirk. He had sent them to do his rounds for him. Doing rounds was one of the most boring medical activities and if there was a way Jess could avoid measuring a patient's blood pressure while said patient was trying to engage him into meaningless small talk or - worse, extensive conversation about their old as time sciatica, he welcomed the opporttunity.

'Do you mean those weirdos?'

Simon nodded while studying them, perplexed.

'Are they doctors?'

'Hell, no. At least I hope so. Can you believe them, they're carrying _action figures_ around,' Jess shook his head disapprovingly.

Then, leaning closer to Simon, he whispered conspiratorially,

'Those youngsters are getting worse with each next generation, I tell you.'

* * *

The surgery had run late and the streets were deserted as he neared the building of his rental. It had rained. Or the snow had melted. Jess had no idea. He was so spent that once he came out of the operation room, he grabbed a sandwich from the vending machine in the foyer and didn't even bother to change out of his scrubs.

Once in the elevator, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the calm buzz of his body. He had done well. Kingston did most of the surgery but he'd let Jess assist during every single step of it. They had a guest thoracic surgeon professor and overall this surgery was the closest to doing something great he had done so far.

He unlocked the apartment door to find the lights in the living room on.

'Hey,' Rory appeared, leaning against the door frame.

Jess blinked, quite convinced he was having a hallucination.

'Surprise?' she tried, taking in the dark circles around his eyes and his disheveled appearance.

She made a few steps to level him and reached to touch his cheek with her palm. He leaned into her touch letting a deep sigh.

'You're tired,' she noted softly, the concern making its way through her voice.

'You're really here,' he said, his voice hoarse from the lack of use. He still couldn't believe she was back.

He'd spent eight hours in surgery and he didn't remember the last time he talked to anyone for over five minutes. Right, last time would be before she left for Stars Hollow to meet her newborn baby brother. That was three weeks ago.

She took the backpack off his shoulder to leave it to the side, then undid the buttons of his overcoat to find him with his uniform still on.

He lifted a hand and ran his knuckles down the side of her face, his eyes taking her features in warily but intently.

'I tried calling but your phone was dead. When I got through to Helen, she said you were in a Gravitz four surgery with Kingston and some Mayo clinic professor...'

She was interrupted by his lips against hers. He kept her face between his palms as he kissed her hungrily. There was intensity behind his moves, leaving her brain void of anything but him and his honest need for her. He moved from her mouth to her jawline. Her neck and collarbone followed and he was leaving open-mouthed kisses, tugging her blouse down so that more of her skin was exposed. Even if he had been wary and distracted when he got into the apartment, she had his full attention now.

Her hands were blindly roaming his back, trying to take his uniform off without having to separate.

'Is this Megatron?' she looked at the action figure she'd pulled out of his white coat pocket.

He ignored her question, focused on undoing the last buttons of her shirt. Her skirt followed.

He took a moment to look at her.

'Jesus fucking Christ,' he uttered.

She felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth at the thought that _Victoria Secret_ would indeed be proud.

There was a renewed spark in his eyes and his features had rearranged, radiating joy and anticipation. Oh well, if Jess Mariano was going beast mode tonight, she didn't really mind. In fact, she had a distinct feeling she was gonna enjoy it.

* * *

 **TBC**


	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer : I own nothing._

* * *

She found him sitting on the couch, surprised to find him home. Lately he spent most of his time at the hospital working on Kingston's cases and when he finally came back home he collapsed on the bed, utterly exhausted. Tonight though, he was home.

He looked different. Not his usual spent self but kind of more... somber.

They had lost a patient last week. He and Kingston. When she'd asked him about it, Jess had delivered a curt reply, something along the lines, _'We did what we could. It's over now._ '

Their job being what it was, they lost patients. It was inevitable - medicine was a constant war, a war with unknown enemies. Patients came with their own pain and fears. Some of them made it okay. Others didn't, leaving their shattered loved ones behind. Remnants of lives, echoes of people, tragedies unraveled before the attending physician's eyes. Someone else's pain. Someone else's mistakes. Doctors were spent soldiers on a foreign battlefield, fighting against nature's laws. They woke up every day and went to work, a bittersweet expectation rushing through their veins, stronger than any drug made so far. The sick adrenaline rush kept them going. Yet, they lost something along the way with each passing day. Dealing with people's pain consumed their strength to deal with their own. Somehow, this case made Rory think about all this as she watched Jess spend day after day closing in, fighting god knows what.

This case was different though. Different how, Rory couldn't tell exactly. She had her guesses but didn't want to press him on. He would tell her when he was ready to deal.

She leaned against the door frame, studying him.

Something was bothering him, she could read it in his furrowed brows and glassy expression. If his stiff shoulders were any indication, he'd spent a good deal of time staring without bothering to move. He was deep in thought and didn't notice her enter the room.

She left her jacket and purse on the armchair and approached the coach carefully.

His look moved up and there was a shift, a warmth in his eyes as he took her in.

She sat on the small coffee table so she was facing him, their knees aligned.

'If you decide to talk about it...' she probed softly.

'I don't wanna talk about it.'

She gave him a slow nod. Then reached out and touched his arm.

'I got your back, okay?'

'Yeah,' he smiled tiredly and squeezed the base of his nape, 'Thanks.'

'No,' she shook her head and leaned closer, placing her palm against the side of his neck, her thumb sliding along his jaw. 'I mean this, Jess,' she insisted. 'I got your back. Whatever this is, I got you.'

He put his hand over hers, closing his eyes.

'God, I'm so tired.'

'Come here,' she pulled him closer so their foreheads touched. 'It's gonna be over. You're gonna go through this and you're gonna kick some ass. Okay?'

She held up his face between her palms, searching his eyes.

'Hey. You're gonna go through this. We are.'

He smiled warily.

She leaned in and kissed him. She moved her lips slowly in a soft, we've-got-all-the-time-in-the-world kiss.

When their foreheads touched again, he smiled a warily.

'You're a keeper, you know that?' his voice was quiet with piled up exhaustion but his look was intense on her, telling her he meant what he said.

Her thumbs traced his cheekbones.

'You're my rock star, Jess Mariano. Don't forget it. DMR, remember?'

'DMR. Got it.'

There was a knock on the door.

'I'll get it,' Rory gave him a smile and stood up.

In a couple of seconds her voice sounded from the hallway, worried.

'Jess..'

Jess stood up and reached the hallway with a few wide strides. He stopped short as he saw the two men in uniforms who were standing at the door, one of them showing Rory his badge.

'Doctor Jess Mariano? Will you accompany us?'

* * *

She stopped between the audience sections and took a moment to study him. At the front of the courtroom, near the defense desk his lawyer was speaking to him and Jess was listening grimly with his hands on his hips. His tie was in place around his neck and Rory felt a sudden urge to go and unfasten it so he could breathe. He stood stiffly, his muscles tense under his suit jacket. His clean shaven jaw was tight and he lifted a hand to rub it, as if trying to squeeze some tension out of it. There were dark circles under his eyes and the warm brown of his irises seemed somehow... emptied. Disillusioned. After everything he'd been through in his life, she'd think he wouldn't be one to place high hopes on something only to be crushed down, especially if this something involved work. But he had. He had put Kingston on a pedestal and now the ground beneath his feet was crumbling. Jess had genuinely believed that his tutor was someone to look up to. Sarcastic to the point of being a cynic, Jess had this hidden inner idealism that only emerged to the surface if given some hope.

At the back of her mind, she asked herself if she had put the concept of hope back into him and whether this was a good thing or not. She didn't have time to think through the idea because he turned to her, probably feeling he was being watched. His eyes softened the moment he saw her. His whole posture relaxed, the ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth and he was her Jess again.

She gave him a slow smile and he kept her look.

She lifted a hand to motion between herself and him.

'DMR,' she mouthed and the smile reached his eyes. He gave her a nod back.

The gavel hammered, signalling for everyone to take their seats.

* * *

'Doctor Jess Mariano, right?'

Jess' eyes were hard, keeping the eyelock with the prosecution lawyer.

'Yes.'

'You are a surgeon at St Morrison's Hospital?'

'That's right.'

'And you're part of doctor Kingston's team?'

Rory watched as a shadow crossed his look. He didn't let on but she could tell he was breaking furniture inside his head. He answered before the pause stretched on too long.

'Yes.'

'For how long have you been a resident surgeon?'

'Three years.'

'So technically, you're not a staff surgeon yet?'

'Objection, Your Honor,' Jess' lawyer stood up. 'Residentship is a legal part of advanced medical training, the Prosecution is arguing semantics.'

'Accepted.'

The prosecution lawyer gave the judge a short nod and continued.

'How did you join doctor Kingston's team?'

'Doctor Kingston is the Chief of Surgery in St Morrison's Hospital. He asked me to join his team a couple of months ago.'

'Can you tell us some more about the specifics of the cases you and doctor Kingston took on?'

The shadow seemed to lift off Jess' face for a moment.

'Doctor Kingston suggested we developed a new protocol for critically ill patients who could benefit from being operated on. Those were mainly carcinoma patients with vital organ affliction and a surgery was their only hope to survive.'

'Would you elaborate what you mean by the term _new protocol_?'

'Prognosis for such patients is grim. That's why most surgeons are tentative to take on such cases. As I said, a surgery was those patients' only hope to survive.'

'Do you mean no other surgeon would take on those patients because the chance not to make it through the surgery is so poor it's considered too risky?'

Jess' eyes wandered for a brief moment across the courtroom until they resided on Kingston.

'Every surgeon has their own judgement to regard when taking such a decision.'

'Please answer the question, doctor Mariano. Were those surgeries so risky there wasn't even an affirmed protocol for them?'

'Every surgery is risky,' Jess insisted, his eyes never leaving Kingston's.

'Yet,' the prosecution lawyer didn't give up, 'those surgeries were different because they were _especially_ risky.'

Jess worked his jaw and licked a lip before he answered.

'I guess you could say that.'

'Do you know doctor Randall?'

'Yes,' Jess nodded curtly. 'He's my attendant.'

'Did doctor Randall call in sick five months ago and ask you to scrub in for a partial liver resection instead of him?'

'Yes.'

'Did you follow protocol in said surgery?'

'Objection, Your Honor,' the defense attorney stood up. 'Irrelevant.'

'Objection's dismissed. Doctor Mariano, answer the question.'

'When we opened and saw the operative field it was obvious that the initial assessment of the tumor mass was inadequate and I requested intraoperative ultrasound.'

'Even though your attendant had specifically assigned the protocol for this surgery and no deviations were allowed?'

Jess' lips pressed white.

'Doctor Mariano?'

'You can't know what you're gonna find until you're well into a surgery. Requesting the ultrasound wasn't a deviation, it was the medically right thing to do.'

'Did you follow protocol, doctor Mariano?' the prosecution lawyer pressed on, 'Yes or no?'

'Answer the question, doctor Mariano,' the judge repeated.

'No.'

'You didn't follow doctor Randall's protocol,' the prosecution lawyer nodded thoughtfully, 'Or maybe you made a _new protocol_ of your own, doctor Mariano?'

'Objection, Your Honor! Speculation.'

'Objection accepted.'

'This isn't your first court trial - right, doctor Mariano?' the prosectution lawyer continued. 'You were almost sent in Juvenile Delinquent on a number of occasions?'

'Objection!'

'Will you please make your point, Mr Hensley?'

'I apologize, Your Honor,' the prosecution lawyer said with a small smile that was anything but apologetic.

Then he turned towards Jess.

'You were raised by a single mom, doctor Mariano?'

Rory sucked in a breath.

Silent. Jess was so silent the air around him got thick. Rory prayed that he would look at her so she could convey some comfort through to him.

'Doctor Mariano?'

'Is that a question?' Jess asked, his voice deathly even.

 _Look at me_ , Rory prayed. _Come on, Jess, look at me_. She almost mouthed the words. Or maybe she _had_ made a sound because Jess' eyes found hers at the same moment the prosecutor's next words reached them.

'Was your mother a drug addict, doctor Mariano?'

She held his gaze as something within him crumbled.

* * *

 **TBC  
**


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine, etc._

* * *

'As a surgeon, how would you describe Dr Kingston?'

'Skilled.' Jess paused to think for a moment. 'Determined.' A smirk teased the corner of his mouth. 'Overconfident.' He sighed, as if admitting it despite his own will, 'He's a genius.'

'According to you is this good or bad?'

Jess kept the prosecutor's look, remaining calm despite the lawyer's obvious attempt to lead him on.

'I gave up putting labels on people a long time ago.'

'Yet, what do you think of what Dr Kingston is doing?'

'I think it's ground-breaking.'

'And is this a good thing?'

'He gave some desperate people a chance,' he said, leaning slightly forward.

'Not all of them survived to see the results.'

Jess nodded grimly. He was aware of how that seemed to the outsiders. Ambitious doctors who wanted to succeed on their innocent patients' expense. By assumption society assumed that patients were helpless, naive people and doctors were potentially insolent, ambitious asses with delusions of grandeur. Patients were suffering the injustice of their illness and their attending doctors were somehow supposed to right the wrongs. Somehow, no matter how supposedly informed society was, there was always the unmet expectation that doctors were supposed to have some divine knowledge and skill and cure the ill. No matter what. However, when a doctor did try to break some new ground, he was labeled arrogant or lunatic.

'All patients signed the inform consent,' Jess explained patiently. 'All of them were talked through the risks of undergoing an operation in their condition.'

'Do you think there was anything wrong with this project?'

Jess' brows rose.

'This project was a rare chance for critically ill patients to get a chance to survive.'

'Unless, of course, they didn't make it through the surgery.'

'I don't think I understand you,' Jess licked a lip. 'Do you imply every patient that undergoes a surgery is supposed to make it and get better in the end?'

'I don't know, Dr Mariano, you're the surgeon. Don't _you_ go into each operation believing the patient will make it and get better in the end? Or do you play chances with critically ill patients because who would care to get into detail about the death of a dying person anyway?'

'Objection, Your Honor!' the defense lawyer jumped up, his face red.

'Objection accepted.'

'What are you implicating?' Jess narrowed his eyes, the dark brown of his irises darkening ever so slightly.

Rory gripped at the wooden edge of her seat. _Don't let him get to you._

'Mister Mariano, all facts are pretty self-explanatory. A man coming of a troubled past finds himself in a situation of power. It's not your first time disregarding protocol.'

Rory leaned forward, her heart hammering wildly. _He's openly provoking you. Don't let him get to you._

'Did you violate protocol in these surgeries, doctor Mariano?' the prosecution lawyer pressed.

Jess held the prosecutor's look.

'No.'

'Are you sure? Because you did admit violating protocol before.'

Jess answered without batting an eye.

'It was once and it was in the patient's best interest.'

'And you would do it all over again if you were put in the same situation?'

'In that particular situation, yes.'

'Like those patients in this so-called project?'

There was not a trace of doubt when Jess answered.

'No.'

'You didn't do what was in their best interest?'

'I didn't violate protocol.'

'Even in this last surgery?' the prosecution's lawyer insisted.

'Even in this last surgery.'

'Why is it then that doctor Kingston says otherwise?'

Rory's blood froze. A thousand alarms set up in her head. That's why Jess was the one the prosecution was after. It was all a setup.

Jess blinked stoically, as if he had somehow expected the prosecutor's words.

'I don't know.'

* * *

'Your name is Paris Geller?'

'Yes.'

'And you're a colleague of doctor Mariano?'

'Yes.'

'How long have you worked with him?'

'Four years.'

'So you know him quite well?'

Paris shrugged.

'I think so.'

'How would you describe doctor Mariano?'

'Can you specify?'

'Would you describe him as disciplined?'

Paris suppressed a huff.

'It would be one of the last words in my list.'

'And what would your list include?'

She didn't hesitate.

'Arrogant.'

'Arrogant?'

'Especially when you first meet him. Chronologically, you'll first notice that he's quite full of himself and isn't afraid to show it. It will get on your nerves but you'll tolerate it because he's skilled and, more often than not, right. Then you'll figure he's painfully forward. He's also sulky and sarcastic and has some serious brooding tendencies, especially when the love of his life isn't around.'

The lawyer's eyebrows wriggled but Paris continued before he had time to pose a question.

'Good.'

'Good?'

'Oh yes.'

'In what sense?'

'In every sense there is.'

Paris leaned forward, her words ringing loud and clear as she turned to look Jess in the eye.

'Beyond his thick stubborn skin, Jess Mariano is the best damn doctor I've ever known, both as a surgeon and as a person. He has more skill and practical experience than most resident surgeons around, but that's not even my point. What differs him from any other doctor I know is Jess Mariano's integrity. He would never, and I mean _never_ act against a patient's best interest and this trial is the product of a cheap setup.'

The Judge leaned forward.

'Miss Geller, if the Court needs your opinion about the feasibility of this trial, you'll be by all means asked for it. Until then I'd like to prompt your respectful attitude.'

'Excuse me, Your Honor. Can I explain?'

'Explain what?'

'Why this trial is a setup.'

'Miss Geller!'

'I can prove doctor Mariano is innocent.'

'Objection, Your Honor!'

There was a strained silence where Paris met the Judge's look openly.

'Finish, Miss Geller.'

'I know for a fact that doctor Kingston signed a new professional insurance contract right before this project started.'

'Isn't this common practice for most medical professionals?' the Judge asked.

'Not like this,' Paris shook her head. 'This is the kind of insurance that's so insanely costly, it covers any case of malpractice. However, there's one condition. The contractor must be proven not liable. It secures the chief of surgery in case of staff malpractice. Doctor Mariano's bio and Randall's case were right there along with the insurance policy and this is easy enough to prove if you check doctor Kingston's office.'

'What are you implying, Miss Geller?'

'I'm implying that this project was setup for court before it started and doctor Mariano was picked to be the scapegoat.'

There was inidignant mutter among the audience.

The Judge hammered his gavel.

'Silence!'

The mutter died out and people strained to hear what the Judge's next question would be.

'How did you get this information, Miss Geller?'

Paris took a breath, giving Doyle who was also in the audience an apologetic look.

'I was in doctor Kingston's office when he wasn't there.'

'And what were you doing there?'

'Something stupid.'

'Answer the question, Miss Geller.'

'I was trying to falsify next month's schedule so that I'd have less night shifts.'

The Judge looked doubtful as to whether Paris was serious or outrageously disrespectful.

'It's true,' she shrugged helplessly. 'I haven't slept for more than two hours straight ever since my baby son was born. I'm suffering severe sleep deprivation and chose a stupid way to handle this.'

'You can lose your job for this, Miss Geller, you realize that?'

'Jess could lose his freedom for less,' she shrugged dejectedly. 'Doesn't feel right, don't you think?'

* * *

'Let's go home,' Jess looped a hand around Rory's shoulders, guiding her out of the courtroom with steady and determined steps. 'I wanna do something mundane.'

Rory looked up at him, finding his features stoically composed as they passed by people from the audience, their comments and congrats coming muffled through the buzz of adrenaline still circulating in their system.

Jess guided her round a couple of reporters who asked for an interview, giving them all a patient but firm ' _No comment_ ', his steps quick as he walked her towards the exit of the courthouse. There was a seemingly easy smile on his face as they passed by the guards at the exit, exchanging curt nods. His smile was meant to pass for negligent but Rory could tell it was forced. He was fighting to keep his relaxed demeanor and she wondered at his tenacity. He had sat through the whole trial without once letting his nerves take the better of him. He had to be exhausted. She knew for a fact that she was and she wasn't even the one who had been questioned and dissected to shreds only to be sewed back together again.

Rory looked up at him, trying to gauge his real frame of mind but as they stepped out of the courthouse, camera flashes blinded her and she squinted, lifting an elbow to shade her eyes. Jess' grip tightened round her shoulders and he ushered them away from the mini crowd of journalists. Thankfully, they didn't follow. Kingston had to be next out of the building, escorted by a couple of police officials. The press had always been more interested in the losing party in a trial. Rory didn't care, as long as they got further from the crowd.

She saw a cab pulling at the curb a couple of blocks down the main street. She tilted her head in its direction and Jess nodded in affirmation. They headed in its direction, step by step getting closer to their escape. Then she felt it. The slightest shake of his fingers against hers, a restrained jerk of his elbow over her shoulder-blade. She looked up, finding his face uncharacteristically pale.

'Hey,' she stopped, reaching a hand to touch his clean-shaven jaw. 'You okay?'

His look was transfixed, aimed somewhere behind her, his jaw ticking.

'Hey,' she cupped his cheek, 'What's wrong?'

His chin trembled under her touch, the notion gradually taking up his whole body, defying the strain of his tense muscles. He was shaking despite his effort to regain control over his own body.

She stepped forward and wrapped both arms around him, keeping him close in an awkward embrace that was meant mostly to support him.

'Just a couple of steps more,' she said softly, 'We're almost there.'

She pressed her lips to his pulse spot, feeling the wild hammering of his heart both through his shirt and against her lips.

'Oh babe,' she whispered against his neck, 'I'm so sorry you had to go through this.'

She sniffed, willing herself to keep her emotions checked.

'It's over now.' She drew back to have a better look at him, caressing the side of his face with her palm, smoothing his hair back. 'It's over.'

His eyes roamed her face blindly, as if trying to recognize and hold onto something familiar but he was getting more and more lost in his head. His lips were slightly parted as he sucked in short puffs of air.

Rory blinked rapidly, as if trying to regain her focus herself,

'It's over, babe,' she repeated. 'We're almost there. Do you think you can walk with me?' she searched his eyes apprehensively, trying to communicate some of her resolve through her look.

'I'll hold you like this,' she said, moving so that she was at his side and swung his arm was over her shoulders, wrapping both her arms around his middle so he could lean on her. 'Just a couple of steps more, hon.'

She started a slow pace and Jess followed her lead stiffly, his feet tangibly wobbly. They made a couple of steps but then he came to a halt, making her look up.

'I think I'm gonna be sick,' he said hoarsely.

She nodded, navigating them towards a back alley to the side of the main street. As soon as they were off the main street, Jess reached for the wall to his left and leaned forward, emptying his breakfast over the pavement, taking deep breaths as he tried to brace himself.

She rubbed his back comfortingly, supporting him.

Jess leaned both palms against the concrete wall, pressing his forehead ahead against the cold concrete, his eyes squeezed shut in an effort to regain control over his breathing.

'You did good,' Rory whispered, wrapping both hands around him from behind, her cheek pressing to his back, looking for contact. His muscles felt tense against her skin and he was still shaking, although less than before. She held onto him, feeling the squeeze of a quiet sob in her chest. Her heart was breaking for him, the anguish and apprehension washing over her in sweeping waves. She felt his suit jacket get wet under her cheek, realizing her tear ducts had betrayed her. He, on the other hand, took slow, deep breaths, his strained muscles gradually starting to relax. It took him a while, but the shivers went away and he felt warm and solid again.

'Come here,' he whispered as he turned around and wrapped his arms around her, his hold feeling strong and secure again, his palm rubbing slow circles against her back.

'It's over,' he repeated her words from before, making her chuckle through a sob.

'We...' she sniffed, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, 'we should find a better reprise. _It's over_ sounds like Porky Pig got his lines wrong.'

She sniffed again, feeling her breathing gradually return to normal.

'Look at us, our emotions all over the place,' she chuckled and shook her head, 'We should definitely find a better reprise.'

He smiled in her hair, kissing the top of her head.

'Have anything particular in mind?'

'You're my hero, Jess Mariano,' she squeezed him into a tighter embrace.

'You're right,' Jess chuckled, pulling her closer, 'I already like this reprise better.'

They stood in a dark New York alley on a workday afternoon holding onto each other, grateful they got to exist in the same time and space along with each other.

* * *

'They changed the story because of it. After they heard the song being performed for the first time, they knew the story had to be about Elza. They rewrote the whole script all over again because of a couple of a song.'

'Are you trying to make an epiphany out of a _Disney_ movie?'

'Hey,' she rose a finger to point out, ' _Disney_ 's all about epiphany.'

He turned to look at her for a moment, the corners of his mouth twitching with the start of a smile, then looked back up as his smile continued its way to his eyes.

They were lying on the bed, facing the ceiling in comfortable silence.

His tie was loose and her heels were lying kicked on the floor.

'I think they chose you because you could pull it off.'

His brows rose but he waited for her to elaborate.

'You're a remarkable surgeon, Jess. I know you would probably wave it off as a praise from your girlfriend had I said it earlier, but I'm your colleague too and being such I'm entirely captivated by your drive and integrity. They chose you because you had the guts to go with your talent. Please don't ever doubt how good you are at what you do.'

His face was a tight knot of restrained emotion. She knew him well enough not to expect him to bleed out his inner insecurities on the spot. But he had them. Everyone did.

And her opinion mattered. To him it meant the world and she had an inner conviction that he needed to know how she looked up to him. Because she did. He was her first example of practical medicine. Her hero. He was so many things to her, sometimes she wondered if it was healthy to look up to someone that much.

He let out a sigh and she knew it cost him some effort to keep his cool demeanor after being under so much pressure during the last couple of weeks.

'Thanks for not questioning me,' he said and gave her a sideways look that made her heart skip a couple of beats. There was a newfound determination in his eyes and she felt an overwhelming wave of relief and gratitude that they had gone through this and gone out stronger. She licked a lip, composing her face into a seemingly nonchalant smile.

'No problem.'

They lay like this for a while, then she turned to the side so she was facing him too.

'When did you know?'

'Know what?'

'When did you know that you liked me?'

He folded an arm under his head.

'You mean, besides being desperate to do the nasty with you in the break room?'

She swatted his arm and he smirked, knowing she was thankful he could make light of the situation. The past couple of weeks had been emotionally exhausting, they needed to let themselves go every now and then.

He thought for a moment, getting more serious.

'When you stepped up for Helen after the informed consent fight.'

'How so?'

'When you called me on my shit. That's when I knew you cared and... somehow I wanted you to.'

'It wasn't insta-love then?'

He chuckled and shook his head.

'God, no. It's still going on.'

'What is?'

'Me falling for you.'

He threaded his fingers through her hair and looked at her.

'It's still in progress and keeps getting better.'

She felt her chest warm and a blush crept up her cheeks. He smiled at her embarrassment and asked a question of his own.

'What about you?'

'What about me?'

He rose an eyebrow questioningly.

'When did you know?'

She didn't hesitate.

'When I learned about your mom.'

His face grew harder. He didn't ask but the question was in the air and she explained anyway.

'That's when you started making sense. Your personality, the badass attitude, what was beneath it. Until then, I wasn't sure I could trust my gut about you.'

'That's weird, though?'

He put it like a question and she smiled.

'Not at all. It made you who you are. And I'm thankful for the man you've become.'

'And who's that?'

'Someone whose head I could break pieces of fine furniture into.'

Jess kept silent.

'It is a good thing,' she elaborated.

'Oh. Okay.'

...

The buzz was loud and woke them up. They had fallen asleep on the bed while talking, facing each other. Both checked on their pagers, finding they had gone off simultaneously. Rory's grin met Jess' as they looked at each other.

'Let's go save some lives.'

* * *

 **TBC**


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine, etc.  
_

 _A/N: Pretty Paris-centric. Enjoy :)_

* * *

'You shouldn't be giving me advice,' Paris huffed.

They were in the scrub room and Paris was getting ready to scrub in for a small bowl obstruction surgery. Rory gave her friend an incredulous look.

'You and Mariano are sappier than a Phil Collins song,' Paris explained starting to scrub her nails with soap.

Rory opened her mouth to protest but Paris cut in.

'I don't wanna listen to your reasoning. Your logic is lame.'

'How so?' Rory frowned.

'Because your relationship is overtly simple.'

'It ... is?'

'Duh. You love him, he loves you back, end of story,' Paris sighed while rinsing soap off her hands.

'You're the definition of lovesick puppies and you have the freedom to explore this love, renew the flame every now and then et cetera.'

She applied a new portion of soap and started scrubbing even more vigorously.

'When a child comes into the picture...' Paris paused and her features melted into a strange mixture of love and despair.

'Nothing's ever going the way you planned or wanted. A kid doesn't care whether you're spent or angry. They just wanna have fun banging on the metal pans set your mother-in-law gave you. A kid doesn't care that you're sleep deprived and have terrible sinusitis, they don't care if your husband's patience to get you into the mood for a quickie has run out two years ago.'

Rory made a face but Paris ignored it, lost in her ramble.

'Life is good and awful at the same time - Josh brings us so much joy and love - I never thought I could feel so much love for anything different from _Maingot's Abdominal Surgery_ but guess what - I do.'

She paused with her arms flexed in the elbows so that the water drops rolled from her fingers to her forearms.

'And it's so exhausting,' she sighed. 'It's so exhausting it's annihilating.'

She shook her head and her look was lost somewhere beyond Rory, beyond the scrub room.

'There's no time to do anything else beyond work and Josh. We order our groceries _online_. Can you imagine? Me and Doyle...' she shook her head, 'we don't talk anymore. There's always something to do, and when it's done there is a whole lot of other things to do and once we're thoroughly and utterly spent, we only snap at each other every time we try to discuss anything different than what's left over for dinner. He decided he wanted to have dreams of his own and also had a right to have a brilliant career after we'd specifically agreed that I'd be the one with the dazzling career. I don't think I can blame him. I don't blame myself either. He's tired, I'm tired and ultimately we get tired of looking at each other's tired faces...'

Paris sighed dejectedly while scrubbing disinfectant over her fingers and nails. Rory moved uncomfortably, feeling she must show some sign of empathy.

'It does sound... tiring,' she offered. Paris gave her a look.

'Sorry,' Rory mouthed. 'Go on.'

'There's so much disappointment circling between us and we don't even have to argue to feel angry at each other. I just hear his voice in my head and it's constantly judging and criticizing and... I used to think it was just a phase, but I don't know anymore.'

Rory opened her mouth.

'Don't you dare tell me to think about Josh first. Don't you think I've been putting him first all this time? I've been trying to find a way to do this without hurting anyone and I'm coming to a dead end every time. I've been putting my own needs to the side for so long, I don't remember what actual joy feels like. I go into the elevator and see some people smiling and I'm wondering what's that on their faces because, don't they have jobs and kids and disappointed husbands to think for - how do they find the energy to smile? I don't think my facial muscles are capable of doing this anymore. I am so spent I doubt whether I can go through this surgery without falling asleep face first into this guy's intestines, so don't you dare tell me to think about Josh first.'

Paris paused to take a breath. Her eyes were twinkling and she blinked back a tear. Rory held her friend's look.

'Wasn't going to.'

'Good.'

'God, Rory,' Paris looked up, her eyes wide with terror. 'What am I gonna do?'

'You're gonna walk in there,' Rory gestured towards the surgery room, 'cut this guy open, cut the obstructed portion of his small intestine, sew him up and when you're done I'm taking you out for a drink. I'll call the nanny and have it covered. Just... don't try to think about everything all at once? Small steps. Okay?'

'Okay.'

Paris took a deep breath.

'I can do this.'

'You will rock it. Go and cut some gut, Paris. I'll be here when you're done.'

* * *

'What if they don't make it?' Rory asked as she sat on her side of the bed. Jess looked up from the book he was reading.

'It's really bugging you, isn't it?'

'It's like watching a unicorn die. Makes you doubt that there is some celestial sense behind everything.'

He shrugged, putting the book to the side and making place for her so she could snuggle next to him.

'There's always unicorn CPR,' he suggested.

She looked up at him indignantly.

'You can't joke about this.'

'Sure I can. I can joke about anything.'

'What about Josh?'

'He still has two perfectly healthy parents, they'll work it out and find a way to still be there for him even if they're not together in the biblical sense.'

'You're really a smartass tonight, aren't you?'

'I am. I also come from a very different place, a place where having even one half-decent parent is considered winning the genetic lottery.'

She bit on her lip, feeling guilty for not factoring in how much harder his own childhood had been. If there was a hierarchy to parent misfortune, Jess was surely one who had the right to joke about it. He'd been through some of the worst scenarios.

'Sorry,' she mumbled. 'I didn't realize..'

'Hey,' he lifted her chin. 'It's okay. I didn't say it to make you feel bad. I just think that having two unhappy people at home is a bad way to be raised. And if there's even a remote chance for them to keep their relationship civil, they should go for it before it gets too late. Those situations tend to get ugly as they stretch over time.'

'Paris kept talking about going in circles and not being free to be lost. I'm not sure I can understand everything she's saying. It's like she thinks I'm too, I dunno... _immature_ or carefree to relate.'

She sighed, rubbing her nose with the back of her hand.

'What are you reading?'

She reached over and lifted the book he'd left face-down by his side.

' _It's the awful raincoat making me look like a selfdefeated self-murdering imaginary gangster_...'she read out loud. ' _an idiot in a rueful coat..._ '

She put the book down.

'Sounds like Kerouac.'

Jess smiled.

'It is Kerouac.'

She settled back against his chest with a sigh.

'It's like she feels she's no longer young or something. I'm not used to seeing her like this.'

'Like what?'

' _Reconciled_.'

'She's tired,' he said, resting his chin on top of her head.

'But it's absurd - we're the same age,' Rory insisted. 'Twenty-seven isn't the end of the world.'

'In some ways, it is,' he said thoughtfully. 'She became a parent and her right to be irresponsible and get lost once in a while was taken from her. Her life will never be about her again.'

Rory looked up at him.

'Was it like that for you?' she asked quietly, 'When... you know.'

She didn't bring herself to say it out loud.

'When my mom overdosed?' he finished for her.

He thought about it for a moment.

'I guess you could say that. Life was never the same after that.'

Somehow, adulthood felt sad when you thought about it in terms of disillusioning.

'It's so sad,' she pressed her cheek to his chest, his heartbeat soft and steady against her ear. 'I so wanted to believe in unicorn couples.'

'Unicorns have bad hair days,' he said and she could hear the smile in his voice.

She smiled too, grateful he tried to make light of the situation.

'They do?'

'Real ones do,' he shrugged. 'Come on,' he pulled her up and turned her in his arms so she was straddling him, 'let me console you and try take advantage of your helplessness.'

She leaned down, whispering against his ear.

'I love you, Kerouac.'

* * *

'You assigned with Geller?' Jess rose his eyebrows incredulously.

Helen gave him a dirty look.

'Aren't you sweet,' he mock praised. 'So, what do you have?'

'Three year old kid with abdominal pain. She was diagnosed with nephroblastoma one year ago and had her right kidney removed, followed by two full courses of chemo. Your naci friend performed abdominal and chest ultrasound and everything turned out clear. Then she mumbled something about not being objective when treating kids and having to find you.'

As they entered the exam room, Paris looked up and sighed with relief as she saw Jess.

'Good, you're here.'

She turned towards the little girl who was lying on the hospital bed.

'Kathy,' Then, addressing the stuffed plush bunny lying in the girl's arms, 'Max,' she gestured towards Jess, 'this is Jess. He's pretty good at peekaboo,' she explained seriously. 'He's also a doctor, like me.'

'Hey Kathy,' Jess lifted a hand to greet the kid and after a pointed look from Paris, turned towards the plush bunny. 'Hey Max.'

'Kathy, will you tell Jess where Max's tummy aches?'

* * *

'Your nurse is presumptuous. She thinks she knows everything,' Paris huffed as they exited the exam room ten minutes later, narrowing her eyes at Helen who followed right on their heels.

'That's because I do,' Helen shrugged, unimpressed.

'She does,' Jess confirmed.

'Oh please.'

'For example, I know you're gonna need Kathy's labs,' Helen offered extra politely.

Paris rolled her eyes and took the labs the nurse held out for her as they continued walking towards the ER.

'Also, I arranged for a pediatric gynecologist to stop by for a consult. One of the interns is on his way to the ER with your coffee. Triple espresso, right?'

Paris slowed down, giving Jess an incredulous look.

'How does she...'

'Oh please,' Helen cut in. 'I did some basic research. If you decide you want the contrast CT scan you were wondering about, I can make that happen.'

Paris stopped and stared for a moment, then shook her head, sobering up.

'Okay, do as I said. I mean, what you knew I would say - oh, whatever.'

Then she mumbled something about needing to call the nanny to pick Josh from daycare and coming back in a sec.

They stood, thoughtfully watching Paris' back a few feet away as she seemed to be in a heated conversation with someone named Samantha (i.e. the nanny, as Helen's research could confirm).

'I like her,' Helen said almost giddily.

Jess arched an eyebrow. Helen shrugged.

'I don't like polite people. And she's such a pain in the ass - it's exhilarating.'

* * *

'It was stage two tumor with favorable histology,' Paris insisted pacing to and fro in the empty exam room.

Jess watched her with his back leaning against the closed exam room door, arms folded before his chest.

'She had right nephrectomy followed by six months of chemo,' Paris continued. 'She didn't get radiation therapy so the chance for secondary cancer isn't great.'

'Her Wilms was staged two,' Jess pointed out.

'Didn't we already cover this?'

'Unless, of course, it had meta they couldn't detect at the time.'

Paris stopped and chewed on her bottom lip.

'I'll get her reports from last year. Call Gilmore, we're gonna brainstorm.'

* * *

'I went through every single test dozens of times and couldn't find anything,' Paris sighed, resting her head in her palms.

They were sitting around the break room table and Jess and Rory were holding Kathy's reports, trying to find any clues.

'Me either.'

They looked at Jess expectantly. He put his arms up in defense.

'Nothing.'

'What are we missing?' Rory asked, taking another report.

'We're not,' Paris said with sudden determination. 'We're not missing anything because it didn't have meta.'

'You'll have to prove it.'

Paris nodded thoughtfully.

'I'll arrange bone scan.'

* * *

'It's not meta,' Paris said for what was probably the umpteenth time.

They were back in the break room with the results from the bone scan lying on the table.

'The odds are it is.'

'Only it isn't.'

'How can you know?'

'I just know,' Paris insisted.

'Maybe,' Rory started carefully, 'it's more of wishful thinking.'

Paris looked at her with a pained expression.

'She's three.'

Rory sighed.

'I know.'

'She can't have meta. It just... it sucks.'

'It does.'

'It sucks so much.'

'I'm sorry,' Rory said.

They stood in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Then Rory stood up.

'I have to get back and cram for the residency exam next week. You two okay here?'

'Sure,' Jess gave her a nod and she pecked his lips on her way out.

Before she exited the break room, Rory threw Paris a concerned look. She exchanged glances with Jess and he gave her another nod, indicating he got it covered.

Paris kept clicking the cap of her pen, oblivious to her friends' wordless interaction.

'The CT and MRI were contrast-free because we couldn't risk impairing her working kidney. That mass we saw on the MRI, it may not be meta.'

He studied her for a while, then moved to sit next to her on the couch, leaning forward against his knees.

'Kathy presented with abdominal pain, vomiting, muscle weakness and renal failure. Last year she had these symptoms and was diagnosed with Wilms in her right kidney.'

'If we remove her left kidney she'll spend one third of her life attached to a dialysis machine.'

'If we don't she may die on us,' he said carefully.

Paris shook her head and stood up.

'It's not meta. I just haven't figured out what it is. I need more time.'

And with that, she exited the room.

* * *

'Can you tell me what the hell was that?'

Jess shoved his surgical cap and mask into his pocket as he followed Paris out of the surgery room.

'It's not meta, Jess.'

'Jeez, Paris,' he shook his head. 'Didn't we already go through this, multiple times?'

'No look,' she insisted. 'I went through the reports again and look what I found,' she put a file into his hands.

'The nephrectomy was done laparoscopically.'

'Yeah, so?'

'There was some extra intraoperative bleeding and they had to cauter the vessels,' she continued. 'That may have impaired the blood supply to her right adrenal gland.'

'O-kay. She still has her left.'

'Yeah, but look at this,' she showed him another file. 'This is from last month. It says Kathy had sinusitis.'

'Now I can see why you busted her surgery screaming we should stop immediately,' Jess deadpanned.

'She had an allergic reaction to the antibiotic and was assigned with a two week corticosteroid course,' Paris went on, ignoring his sarcasm.

Jess narrowed his eyes.

'Again, what are you saying?'

'I'm saying what's causing Kathy's symptoms isn't a meta. It's hypocorticism. She had her right adrenal gland impaired during the first surgery and then the corticosteriods suppressed her left one. She doesn't need surgery, Jess, she's suffering from corticosteroid withdrawal.'

He stood silent for a while, thinking her words over.

'I'm gonna go back in and talk to Peterson,' he said. 'Stay here.'

In fifteen minutes he was back,

'What did Peterson say?' Paris asked anxiously.

'Well, his precise words were 'This is not a sitcom studio, this is a surgical room' and 'Tell your friend to prescribe herself some Diazepam',' Jess recited. 'But you may be more interested in what the first lab results said.'

'Yeah?' Paris looked up hopefully.

'Her blood cortisol was lower than the waistline of Christina Aguilera's jeans. You're such a nerd, doctor Geller,' he said, looping an arm around her shoulders.

'Wait,' Paris stopped, 'it's not meta?'

'Wasn't this what you've been going on about for the last forty-eight hours?'

'Yeah. Yeah, it was.'

'Look,' he sighed, 'they're gonna run the 24-hour cortisol labs and also an ACTH test. But,' he grinned, looking at her, 'Unofficially, you rocked this case.'

'I wasn't objective,' Paris put her arms on her hips and looked down as if analyzing the situation critically for the first time. 'I was thinking like a mother rather than a doctor, letting my emotions impair my judgement.'

'Yeah,' Jess nodded thoughtfully. 'If you weren't thinking like a mother, we would've gone through with the surgery and the girl would be on dialysis for the rest of her life.'

Paris looked up and her eyes sparkled with emotion. Then she put a hand before her mouth and ran down the corridor.

Jess found her on the terrace overlooking the emergency parking lot. He approached her, leaning his elbows against the rail, looking at the hospital yard underneath. For a while neither of them spoke, both silently acknowledging each other's presence.

'You okay?' he asked.

She let out a bitter chuckle.

'God, no.'

He nodded thoughtfully and kept watching the ambulances as they pulled in and out of the parking lot.

They stood like this for a while, each lost in their own thought.

He didn't ask. Dozens of questions and piles of unvoiced advice she couldn't handle right now hung in the air. Thankfully, Jess wasn't like this. Judgemental. Uninvitedly helpful.

Paris sighed. She looked to the side, opening her mouth with the beginning of a sentence but then decided against it and looked away again.

She was a divorced woman. She couldn't bring herself to say it. Not yet. Saying it would somehow make it more real. She wasn't ready for that. The very word twisted her guts and made her squirm. Divorce. It screamed _failure_ in her head. Maybe there would always be a part of her that would love Doyle. But now all she could think about was the disappointment they shared while they signed the divorce papers last week and he packed up to leave for California.

They stood, watching the ambulances come and go. She knew what Jess was doing and she was grateful. He was giving her a choice. She could keep silent. He wouldn't ask. Or she could spill her guts. He would listen.

Paris shook her head, feeling all the weight in the world against her shoulders, crushing her down. Everything was such a mess. Her work. Her failed marriage. Her mind was reeling between fears and reality and she wasn't sure which was which anymore. Some of her worst fears were coming true and she felt helpless to prevent bad things from happening. Everything just went from bad to worse and she had no idea how to stop this from spiraling down to hit rock bottom. What scared her the most was she wasn't sure she could trust her own judgement anymore. She had just busted a surgery because she diagnosed a three year old with adrenal insufficiency based on the single fact that she couldn't handle another injustice happen around her. And three year old girls having metastatic cancer was unfair. She so needed for one thing to go right. Being lost and clueless was for losers. Badass mom/surgeons weren't allowed to feel lost. Was that what she was now? A loser? God, she needed a break. But letting go was for losers too.

She felt a different kind of weight against her shoulders. Jess had draped an arm over her shoulders and, awkwardly (because she was Paris Geller, i.e. a strict _non-hugger_ ), she let him. And for a moment the weight of the world was divided between the two of them.

* * *

 **TBC**


	12. Chapter 12

_Disclaimer : Not mine, etc._

* * *

Rory looked up at the flashing alarm on the wall.

'Code blue?'

Helen slowed down and nodded.

'Chain car crash. One bus, three trucks, dozens of cars, we still don't know the exact number of victims.'

She pointed towards the ambulance parking lot.

'We're going onsite.'

'Move your ass, Gilmore,' one of the attendants cut in, pushing her on his way towards the ER parking lot. 'Take this.'

Rory looked between Helen and the trauma medical bag the attendant had shoved into her hands. Helen shrugged in a _"You know how it is"_ fashion.

'Oh hey,' Jess approached them, putting on a pair of non-sterile gloves. 'The ER is getting crowded, got chain car crash victims. The bus was full of students. We could use a hand.'

He took the trauma bag and shoved it into Helen's hands, winning a glare from the nurse.

'A doctor's gotta do what a doctor's gotta do,' Rory shrugged apologetically and then moved to follow Jess.

'Yeah - do this, Brutus,' Helen's voice sounded behind them. 'Go help Mr Sexy Back instead of having the back of your humble nurse friend.'

They walked off, each lifting a hand to wave her goodbye without bothering to turn back.

* * *

Jess approached the patient - a middle-aged woman who was struggling to breathe. They'd just helped her from the ambulance stretcher onto the ER bed.

'Hey,' he greeted the doctor - some guy he hadn't met before - with a curt nod, then turned towards the patient. 'What happened to you, Missis...' he paused to read patient's name on her file. 'Cole?'

'She was driving and bumped into the back of the crashed bus,' the other doctor cut in. 'The safety belt prevented her from breaking through the windshield but her left clavicle broke. She's been severely dyspnoeic since. Typical case of air embolism.'

Jess arched an eyebrow and looked up at him. Tall, blond and annoying, he added to the forming description in his head.

'Prepare an intubation set, Dopamine infusion and call for emergency CT,' Jess ordered, his brow still arched incredulously at the blond guy.

'You don't wanna intubate, pal,' Annoying Blond interfered. 'The positive pressure is gonna push the emboli further into the pulmonary circulation.'

Jess cocked his head to the side.

'In case it is air embolism. Otherwise it will keep her alive until we find what's causing the dyspnea.'

'Look pal, I know air embolism when I see it,' the blond guy insisted with an air of supremacy that made Jess' smirk widen. 'We didn't have CT scan in Kilis.'

'Well guess what, _pal_. Here we do. Plus CT would locate the source. _If_ it's embolism.'

Annoying Blond's blue eyes flashed, recognizing the challenge.

'Okay,' a set of white teeth flashed as he grinned. 'I'm scrubbing in when you prepare the set for aspiration.'

'If it's embolism and if we decide against hyperbaric oxygenation,' Jess sing-songed, starting to leave for the CT scan with the patient.

* * *

Twenty minutes later Rory put on her mask and went into the surgical room. The patient was lying on her left side and the surgical nurses were preparing the instrumentarium.

'Hey. I heard we have blunt trauma and air embolism,' she said.

'Yep,' Jess said, looking up.

'You gonna aspirate?' she asked, watching as one by one Jess slipped his hands into the sterile set of gloves the surgical nurse held out for him.

'Amen.'

Rory narrowed her eyes at the sound of the familiar male voice. Scrubs, surgical cap and mask on. Yet, could this be...

'Tristan?'

The man turned to the side, seemingly surprised.

'Mary?'

'Mary?' Jess looked between the two while he applied antiseptic over the patient's right clavicle.

'What... what are you doing here?' Rory asked, taking her place by the anesthesia machine.

'Transferred to St Morrison's,' Tristan answered, the surprise in his voice giving way to amusement. 'Your turn.'

'You two know each other?' Jess asked, pausing with the needle for the central venous catheter in his hand.

'We were together in high school,' Tristan smirked provocatively without tearing his eyes from Rory's as he slipped his hands into a pair of sterile gloves.

Jess' brows furrowed as he inserted the cannula into the subclavian vein under the patient's non-fractured clavicle. Cannula, guidewire, dilator, catheter. Piece of cake.

Rory gave Tristan a scowl.

'He means we went to the same high school. Well, that was before he was moved to Military school in North Carolina because he broke into Bowman's dad's safe.'

Tristan shrugged.

'I'm flattered you still remember those days so vividly.'

Jess' eyes darted from the ECG monitor to her, then back to the ECG monitor as he aspirated. He didn't grant Tristan with as much as a look but his eyes were scrutinizing Rory.

Rory checked the patient's vitals.

'I can't believe you became a doctor,' she said while letting gas anaesthetic into the ventilation tubes.

'I didn't take offense of the shock written all over your face but your words - God, do they hurt...' Tristan said with mock hurt while preparing the plates and screws he would need to fix Mrs Cole's fractured clavicle.

When he seemed satisfied with the instrumentarium, he turned towards Jess.

'You done here, pal?'

Jess nodded with a quick eye-roll.

'Okay,' Tristan rubbed his sterile-gloved hands together, 'Time to boogie.' Then looked up at Rory. 'So, medicine?'

'Yeah,' Rory shrugged, injecting the intravenous anaesthetic with her eyes on the ECG monitor. 'All Paris' fault.'

'She didn't lure you into surgery though?,' Tristan nodded towards the Anesthesiology machine as he started applying disinfectant over the operative field in the middle of which there was a tent of skin, indicating where one end of the fractured bone was.

'God, no,' Rory huffed. Then corrected herself, adding with a more negligent tone. 'I mean no. I just resat my exam last month. So I'm officially an Anesthesiology resident now. What about you - trauma?'

'Yeah.'

'Heroic.'

Tristan shrugged with a smirk that reached his eyes.

'Where were you before you transferred?'

His smirk disappeared and he replied somehow mechanically, as if this was an answer he'd repeated over and over.

'Turkey. The hospital where I'd started my fellowship was covering the refugee crisis there and my Military school background gave me a head start.'

'Even more heroic.'

He paused for a moment with the scalpel just an inch from the disinfected skin, yet not touching.

'It is, right?' his smirk was back in place when he pressed the scalpel into the skin and the surgery began.

* * *

'You can ask me, you know?' Rory said as they walked back towards the ER.

'Ask what?' Jess replied absently.

'About Tristan.'

Jess shrugged noncommittally.

'What is there to ask?'

'Not much, really.'

They continued walking in the hospital corridor, every now and then stepping to the side to make way for a stretcher.

'He's not as annoying as he seems,' she reasoned.

'Huh.'

'He's acting childish but he's okay. Maybe you could even be friends.'

'Friends. Sure.'

'Jess.'

'I didn't say anything.'

'Just give him a chance okay? He's fine, I promise.'

'Sure,' Jess shrugged again just as they entered the ER and headed towards the closest examination bed.

'Hey... Maria. You were in the car crash?'

'Que?'

Jess looked into the papers.

'Okay, we'll need someone who speaks Spanish.'

'I'll page Paris.'

* * *

Paris and Rory were looking at the test results spread on the admitting clerk's desk.

'Guess who's being transferred from across the ocean?' Rory leaned forward on her elbows.

Paris seemed uninterested, filling in some information about the patient.

'The Dalai Lama?'

'Tristan Dugray.'

'Mhm.'

'That's all you have to say?'

'You didn't specify which ocean,' Paris said in her defense.

'And that's all?'

'Ehm, yes?' Paris put it like a question.

Rory narrowed her eyes knowingly.

'You knew he was coming, didn't you?'

'He wrote asking about our surgery department.'

'Exchanging mail with Tristan Dugray,' Rory elated. 'This just keeps getting better.'

'He had my email. It's on Facebook,' Paris rolled her eyes. 'However, Jess' patient is pregnant.'

'Who?'

'Jess' patient - Mexican girl who was on the school bus when it crashed? Jeez, am I the only one who's focused around here?'

'Does she know?'

Paris paused, looking at the ultrasound images.

'I don't think so. She must be about nine weeks in, she would let on if she knew. Tell Jess to tell her. If she's keeping the baby we should run some extra tests.'

'I have a better idea. I'll tell him you're taking on the case.'

'What? Why?'

'Language barrier and all.'

'I have enough work to bust my ass until I grow old in here. Tell your boyfriend to stop being lazy and learn some damn Spanish.'

'Which is your lamest case this week?'

'Jamie Donovan. Why?'

'Swap cases with my lazy boyfriend. Easy-breezy.'

'Don't ever use this phrase again. Yuk. However, if he's in for Donovan, we've got deal.'

'Doctor Gilmore?' One of Rory's interns came running. 'Maria's crashing.'

Paris narrowed her eyes.

'Who?'

'Mexican pregnant girl who was on the bus crash,' Rory said as they followed the intern towards the ER.

* * *

 **TBC**


	13. Chapter 13

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine._

* * *

'She's febrile.'

'And hypotonic.'

'She's been tachycardic.'

' _Because_ she's been hypotonic.'

'Or the other way around.'

'Chick or chicken.'

'Does it matter? She's tachycardic _and_ hypotonic. Brainstorm, lovebirds.'

They were in the hospital cafeteria and Paris was pacing to and fro by their table while Rory and Jess were going through the patient's files for the umpteenth time.

'The haemocultures came back negative,' Rory pointed out.

'Duh,' Paris rolled her eyes. 'She's been on antibiotics.'

'It's endocarditis,' Rory sighed, letting her head fall between her palms.

'Of course it's carditis,' Paris huffed, 'We can't locate the source though so we're useless.'

'You're so cute when you make that face,' Jess mocked. Paris made a dirty face. 'Yeah, that's the one.'

The three of them stood silent for a while, each lost in thought.

'What about the baby?' Rory sobered up.

'What about the baby?' Paris asked.

'We automatically assumed she didn't know about the pregnancy,' Rory reasoned. 'What if she'd known and, you know,' Rory made a meaningful gesture with her hand.

Paris and Jess looked clueless.

Rory sighed.

'She could've tried to end it.'

Both Paris and Jess gave her a look.

'She's underage,' Rory explained, 'Had she gone to a hospital to make the abortion, her parents would've been called first thing so they would have to sign the informed consents. So, she went to some place, somewhere illegal but where she could stay anonymous and get it done without being questioned. And, as you can imagine, these places aren't the epitome of sterilization. That's where she could've been infected.'

'How do you even come up with that stuff?' Paris asked, sounding in equal measure impressed and appalled.

'Because I'm dark and twisty?' Rory offered with a shrug.

Paris made a face.

'Yuk. If you use another _Grey's Anatomy_ line on me, I'm not ever speaking to you again.'

'You know where the line came from, you're just as guilty as I am.'

'Whatever,' Paris rubbed her chin thoughtfully. 'Unsuccessful abortion? It could be a clue. I like the way you think.'

'So I'm not dark and twisty anymore?' Rory folded her hands and arched a brow.

'Whatever,' Paris waved her off. 'The only sure thing around here is your poor taste in TV series. But at least you're not as useless as your boyfriend here,' Paris nodded towards Jess who met her deathly look with a bright smile.

'Ah, the love,' he shook his head.

'Move,' Paris made them a gesture to follow her, 'we're gonna take a Pap smear.'

* * *

'So?'

Paris looked up at Jess expectantly. She was sitting in one of the conference rooms, effectively hidden behind a pile of medical textbooks spread open on the long table. Jess handed her the file with the Pap results.

'The Pap smear is...'

'Useless.' Paris made a face. 'I hate empirical therapy,' she groaned and rubbed her temples with her index fingers. 'Remind me to never swap patients with you again.'

Jess arched an eyebrow.

'I thought you would be up for a challenge.'

'Not since I have a toddler kid. Recently the only thing I'm up for is an hour of sleep.

'Huh. I thought you considered sleep a waste of time.'

'I reconsidered. Obviously.' Paris rolled her eyes. 'How is my old case?'

'Jamie Donovan?' Jess smirked. 'Just as boring as ever.'

'I swear, this guy is such a hypochondriac. He hiccups a couple of times and he's plaguing the ER.'

'Eventually the guy pulled some strings and the Chief got him hospitalized. He's been doing fine since the hospitalization.'

'Duh. Because he's a _hypochondriac_.'

Jess' pager went off. His brows knit.

'Damn.'

Pris lifted her look from the textbook.

'What?'

'The hypochondriac just stopped breathing.'

'What? What did you do?'

'That's the thing,' Jess said as he hurried out of the conference room with Paris at his heel. 'I didn't do anything. His infusions were all saline.'

* * *

'Where's the patient?' Jess asked as he ran into Jamie Donovan's room. A nurse was writing something into his papers but the hospital bed was empty.

'Mister Donovan is having an emergency X-ray,' the nurse answered.

'An X-ray? Who assigned it?'

'Doctor...' the nurse checked the papers 'Dugray.'

'What?.'

The nurse shrugged apologetically, clearly confused.

'We called code blue and he was the first to appear so he intubated and took the patient to...'

Jess' hand stopped midair on its way towards the door handle.

'He _what_?'

'He intubated and...'

'Yeah, I heard you,' Jess sighed.

'Well you asked and...'

Jess waved impatiently.

'Where is Donovan's X-ray assigned?'

'3rd.'

'Next time some of my patients crashes, I would appreciate it if you inform me personally.'

'But I paged you as soon as I...' the nurse trailed off looking at the place Jess had just been. 'Oh whatever. That's why I hate surgeons,' she sighed.

* * *

'Do you have a thing for my patients?' Jess went into the X-ray staff room and stood beside Tristan with his hands crossed before his chest watching as the currently intubated Jamie Donovan was being X-rayed.

Tristan turned to meet Jess' look hard on him. His eyes narrowed in return.

'If by have a thing you mean saving their life, then I guess it's a yes,' he shrugged, sounding almost amused. 'I'm betting on phrenic nerve palsy.'

'Based on what?'

'My impeccable intuition?' Tristan offered smugly.

'Jeez,' Jess shook his head. 'You know he was admitted with persistent hiccuping, right?'

'By the time I met him he wasn't breathing so...' Tristan shrugged indicating the rest was self-explanatory.

'You just happened to be around,' Jess muttered under his breath.

'One of us had to,' Tristan smirked.

'You're acting pretty superior for someone who just transferred.'

'You're acting pretty superior for someone whose patient just crashed,' Tristan pointed out with a sly smile.

'What are you implying?'

'I'm implying it's about time to admit you neglected the patient's complaints and you missed out.'

Jess' jaw ticked and he was about to reply when the door opened and a nurse came in with the X-ray image.

'Thank you, Tessa,' Tristan gave the nurse a bright smile that made her blush. Jess rolled his eyes and took the image, holding it up against the view box.

'Oh bull,' Tristan exclaimed behind Jess' shoulder with emphatic surprise. 'Look at that diaphragm, man. Doesn't this look like phrenic nerve palsy? Yes it does.' Then, after a short pause, 'You're welcome.' And with that left the room, leaving a very crabby Jess.

* * *

Dr Geller and Dr Mariano were sitting in the break room, each holding a to-go cup of coffee in hand.

'He snatched my patient.'

'She talks to Maria and suddenly the girl is crying her heart out about the illegal abortion scheme.'

'He was mysteriously the first to appear when Donovan crashed. Just like this.' Jess snapped his fingers.

'The girl was supposedly only speaking Spanish but then look - suddenly she's attending a common English school and speaking fluent English. And when I ask her what the hell, she tells me it was PTSD. Really?.'

'His only complaint was the hiccup. He was like the Minister of Hypochondriacs, he wasn't supposed to stop breathing..'

'No quiero hablar de eso. That's what she told me.'

'And this guy who comes out of nowhere has the nerve to tell me I've neglected patient's complaints.'

'She must've jedi mind tricked her,' Paris shook her head defeatedly.

Jess turned to look at her, confused.

'Who are you talking about?'

'Your girlfriend, of course. You?'

'Dugray. You missed out. You're welcome,' Jess quoted in mock gravely voice. 'This guy is so lame.'

'Wait, Tristan told you you missed out on your patient's complaints?'

Jess gave her a deathly look.

'He didn't.' Paris fell into a fit of laughter. 'He did! Aw, this is so good, I just knew it would be love at first sight between you two.'

'You're such a pain in the ass.' Jess muttered.

'Oh,' Paris wiped her eyes, still struggling to breathe, 'so are you, believe me.'

They stood silent for a while, each contemplating their own thoughts.

'Wait,' Jess sobered up first. 'Rory made Maria talk?'

'Yep.'

'How?'

'Bite me.'

'How do you know it was Rory who made her talk?'

'Because I left them alone in the room for like ten minutes and when I came back I found the girl bawling her eyes out, readily telling me all about the abortion.'

'Whoa.'

'Yeah. I'm having the place checked for microbiology sample.'

'Good.'

'Yeah,' Paris nodded thoughtfully. 'Who would guess Rory could provide such in-depth knowledge about illegal abortion schemes.'

They fell into another silence, this more of the uncomfirtable kind.

'Hey Jess?'

'Yeah?'

'You're spacing out.'

'Yeah. I was just thinking about something.'

'Dugray is a jerk.'

Jess smirked.

'Hallelujiah.'

'But he was right.'

'What?.'

'He called you out on your mistake,' she shrugged. 'Own it.'

'Did I mention the patient was hiccuping?'

'I'm not saying I wouldn't make the same mistake. Probably anyone would. The guy looked like a classic hypochondriac.'

'Then?'

'Then nothing. Dugray was around and got the applause. Don't be a drama queen about it.'

'Huh. Love at first sight eh?'

'Love at first sight.'

* * *

'Wanna talk about it?' Jess stepped awkwardly onto the rooftop terrace.

'Eh?' Rory turned, squinting her eyes in the light coming from the sunset behind Jess' back.

'I mean,' he ran a hand through his hair, making the sunlight dip and pop back in, blinding her sight for a moment. 'Is this case bothering you?'

'Which case?'

He let out a restrained sigh. She couldn't see his face clearly in the contre-jour but his stiff outlines gave out his tension.

''Was it like this for you?' his voice came out raspy. 'When you decided to, ehm, have the abortion.' The light was illuminating behind his back.

She stepped back almost imperceptibly.

'Did you have to go somewhere secret so that you felt safe to do what you wanted?' His voice was barely above a whisper.

Rory closed her eyes and the rays warmed her eyelids as her lips strained into a smile. Her head spun a full circle before she felt sharp and sober again.

'You have no idea what you're talking about,' she patted Jess' shoulder and passed him by, leaving him alone on the rooftop terrace.

* * *

 **TBC**


	14. Chapter 14

_Disclaimer : I own nothing, etc._

 _A/N:_ **Hey guys :) To clear up some confusion - yes, in this AU Rory had an abortion - it happened a couple of years ago** ** **, shortly before graduating Med school and right** after her breakup with Logan who in this AU was her cheating Med school love and fiance. Anyway, all of this is referred to in my first fanfic from this AU Lit series - 'Adverse Events' (which you can find in my profile if interested :)), so I can see why it rose some confusion and I wanna thank you for your question, Nancy :) Hopefully the place of all those events will make more sense as this sequel further evolves ;) Thank you everyone who follows, reads and reviews. Your opinion makes writing this so much more exciting:)**

* * *

'Clamp.'

'Aspiration.'

'Blunt needle.'

'Absorbable suture 3-0.'

'Cauter.'

Abel Korzeniowski's ' _I Will Follow You_ ' was sounding from the operation room's sound system as the surgery went on for another forty minutes.

When they were done the last chords of ' _Dance for Me Wallis'_ were drawing out.

Dr Paris Geller walked out of the operation theater taking her surgical gloves and mask off.

'Paris.'

She turned and saw Jess leaning against the wall adjacent to the surgery room doors. He pushed himself off the wall and joined her on her way out of the surgical wing.

'Got a minute?'

'That's about all I got if you don't want me to collapse into hypoglycemic shock while scrubbing in for the ileoileal anastomosis in 4th. If you walk with me towards the vending machine on Floor 2 and back, maybe you'll have about...' she looked at the watch on her wrist, 'eight minutes. Come on, pour your heart out.'

Jess winced at the ' _pour your heart out_ ' comment but kept up with her down the stairs leading to floor 2.

'So,' he began with a deep intake of air, 'I was wondering if you had something planned for the weekend.'

'Why?' Paris' brows furrowed.

'Well, it's Thanksgiving and... I don't know, I thought we could rent a cabin and go up on the hills for some fresh air.'

'Me and you?'

'What? No. I meant you, me and Rory. And Josh, of course. I've checked a few places, they're pretty well equipped...'

'You, me and Rory?' Paris cut in suspiciously.

'And Josh, if you decide it's okay for him. I mean,' he scratched the back of his head, 'You know what I mean.'

'You, me and Rory.'

'Are you gonna repeat everything I say?'

'I'm just trying to beat my brain to get it.'

Both stopped in front of the vending machine and she dropped some change for a sandwich. Jess took a can of sweet tea and opened it with a pop.

Paris munched thoughtfully.

'Are you planning on a big move?'

'Eh?'

'Are you going to propose?'

Jess choked on his tea.

'I've seen the way you're looking at her,' she gestured accusingly with her sandwich. As she met his oblivious look, she rolled her eyes.

'Oh come on, whenever she's around you're tripping over your tongue and you look like you're about to break into song or something.'

Paris sighed and shook her head.

'Look, personally I think there's nothing wrong with proposing, as far as you're both into it. But doing it in the middle of the woods where you'll have to pee outside looking out for grizzlies?' she made another meaningful gesture with the sandwich.

'Anyway, who am I to judge,' she shrugged, reasoning. 'After all I'm the one with the broken marriage. Fair enough. But I'm not gonna chaperone okay?'

Jess had stopped moving, looking at her dumbfound. He wasn't even blinking.

She thought about it for a second before shrugging understandingly.

'Look, I accept to be the maid of honor. I mean, it's a bit awkward since I won't be with Doyle but you and Rory are my best friends and I should be able to suck my own personal problems up and be there for you right? What the hell, I'll even wear a dress.'

'Paris...' Jess shook his head. He looked like he'd been hit with a frying pan. Repeatedly. 'I'm not gonna propose.'

'Oh.' Paris' brows arched and she tried to nod politely. 'Okay.'

'I just wanted to plan something different for the weekend.'

Paris narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

'She mad at you?'

'What?'

Paris rolled her eyes, irritated by the constant need to elaborate. He used to be such a sharp guy before he fell in love with her best friend. Sometimes she missed the good old times when Jess Mariano had a brain.

'Have you messed up so that now you need to grovel your way back and you call me to be the buffer?'

'Ehm, no.'

'Why the fuss then?' she asked incredulously. 'Why not just stay at home and do what all cheesy couples do on free weekends? In case you're wondering, I mean have hot steamy sex. Hey, it's kind of funny I'm the one telling you this don't you think?'

Paris looked genuinely confused, otherwise Jess would drop a couple of chosen curse words.

'Whatever,' he sighed.

'No, seriously. What have you done?'

'Nothing okay? It's just...' he ran a hand through his shortcut hair in frustration, 'She's been off lately, I wanted her to feel comfortable and just relax for a day or two with her closest friends. It's Thanksgiving for fuck's sake.'

'So you did do something.' Paris said with an all-knowing expression. Jess slapped his forehead and drew his palm down his face slowly. 'Go talk to your girlfriend and don't put me in the middle of your trouble in paradise crisis.'

He shook his head wearily.

'Whatever, Paris.'

'I'll be the maid of honor though. When the time comes,' she called after him as he started to leave. He flipped her the bird without turning back.

She walked into the operation room with an uncharacteristic grin over her face.

'Okay guys, put on Hirschfelder and let us cut some gut.'

* * *

'Ryan Gosling?' Rory repeated disbelievingly. 'You dreamt about Gosling?'

They were in the nurses station of the E.R. where most of the medical staff on duty had been paged to come. More and more doctors and nurses were gathering around them as they waited for the Chief to make an announcement.

'It's stupid but guess what - I'm divorced,' Paris shrugged, 'and I've recently discovered this is like some free pass to Moronsville.'

'Huh,' Rory smiled. 'So, just curious - what does dream Ryan Gosling do? Does he recreate infamous _Dirty Dancing_ scenes?'

'Ehm, no.'

'Sing?'

Paris rolled her eyes.

'Step dance?' Rory tried, wincing.

Paris shook her head and made Rory a gesture to come closer so that she could whisper something into her ear.

Rory pulled back disbelievingly.

'No way.'

Paris shrugged noncommittally.

'Really?'

'I'm a single mom now. I can dream about anyone I want, including Gosling.'

She thought about it for a moment before adding.

'Also, he has a nice butt.'

'Did I hear nice butt?' a male voice sounded right behind them.

Paris rolled her eyes.

'Here comes our proctologist.'

'Hey Tristan,' Rory greeted cheerfully.

'Ladies,' Tristan gave Rory and Paris a gallant nod. 'Ogre,' he smirked, acknowledging Jess who'd just joined them.

'Oh hi Jack,' Jess nodded back with a tight smile.

'Jack?' Tristan's brows rose.

'It's short. For jackass,' Jess explained helpfully.

Tristan was about to reply when the chief of the E.R. clapped his hands a couple of times to get their attention.

'Okay, everyone. I need you to focus. There was an attack in 34th Str. Penn. station. We don't know the exact number of victims, but all emergency teams in the area are being recruited. In order to save time, I'll read your names and divide you into teams of two. Please don't question the orders. Here we go, Peterson and Velasquez - going onsite. Anderson and Smith - you're staying in the E.R. to meet the casualties on arrival. Walters, Aksenov...'

The chief continued to call the names of their colleagues. Rory and Jess exchanged apprehensive looks.

* * *

The ambulance pulled in and they got out to have a look around. The chaos in such situations was a living, breathing thing. Traffic was blocked, cars and trucks pulled to the side of the road to make way for the ambulances. There was yellow tape in a half-mile radius. The anti-terror police units were all over the place, helping paramedics as they got people out of the metro station. There were civilians, walking or limping around with their mobiles in their hands as they frantically tried to get through to their loved ones. Reporters and cameramen were shooting, asking questions in a raised voice in order to beat the sound of approaching helicopters.

There was a makeshift emergency triage close to where Tristan and Rory were standing and he tilted his head in its direction.

'Ready to save some lives?'

Rory nodded.

'Let's do this.'

They headed for the triage.

* * *

Jess wiped his forehead into Helen's shoulder while finishing the skin suture. His eyes darted towards the E.R. entrance door and then back to the wound of the hurt boy's thigh.

'You okay?' Helen asked as she gave him another needle holder with new suture.

'Yeah,' he said as he finished. 'Put on some sterile gauze and dress the wound okay? I'm gonna go check the new patients.'

They kept coming. Dozens of hurt people who got ready for work this morning clueless to the fact that a bomb would explode mere meters from them before they'd even had their lunch.

'Sure,' Helen nodded, watching as he apprehensively threw another look at the entrance.

She hadn't come back yet. Rory was sent onsite with Dugray and they hadn't come back yet. There were no news for other explosions and health care providers were kept away from immediate danger, Jess reminded himself. He threw another look at the clock above the E.R. entrance.

* * *

'I can't breathe,' the man panted.

'Oxygen, 4 litres per hour,' Jess turned from the blood test results towards Helen, then looked back at the patient.

'The ABG is positive for carbon monoxide poisoning.'

'What?'

'The reason why you're short of breath,' Jess explained, 'It's gas poisoning.'

'My head hurts and I'm feeling as if I'm drowning. Please help me.'

'Carbon monoxide is a gas that's formed when something is burning. It easily builds up in a closed space, blocking oxygen transfusion through your blood. It can easily be treated with oxygen.'

By the time Jess finished his explanation the patient was looking semi-comatose.

'We'll help you,' Jess sighed, finding it in himself to have mercy for the poor guy.

The man's flushed face relaxed with relief and his look was full of gratitude.

'Need help behind curtain 17!' a nurse called.

Jess looked at Helen and she gave him a quick nod.

'Go,' she said. 'I'll finish here.'

As he started towards curtain 17, he all but tripped over someone.

'Sor...' he looked up to meet a particularly irritating hue of blue eyes. 'She with you?' Jess asked, his look immediately scanning the E.R.

Tristan arched an eyebrow. Instead of a reply, he looked somewhere behind Jess.

Jess traced his look and saw Rory pushing an elderly woman on a wheelchair. The woman's face and forearms were visibly burnt.

'Hey,' he hurried to meet them, reaching a hand towards Rory's shoulder. 'You okay?'

She nodded but her look was transfixed and her lower lip was wobbling.

'Come here,' Jess pulled her in for an embrace. 'Next time we're swapping places and I'm going onsite,' he exhaled against her hair.

'There were injured people...' Rory said, her voice scratchy. 'More and more.'

Jess tried to pull back so that he could face her but she clung onto him and he tightened his embrace again, letting her lean into him.

'It's like they kept coming,' Rory continued shakily. 'There were people with missing limbs... Jess, I held the hand of a boy who had his both legs blown off...' she paused to take a sharp intake of air. 'I held his hand while he was dying. The look in his eyes...'

She started gasping, unable to breathe properly.

Jess caught her face between his palms.

'It's okay.'

'It's... not... okay.'

'You're right. It's not. It sucks. But you can't let this get to you. Please. They really keep coming, Ror. I need you to stay put and help me save the people who still have a chance. Can you do this?'

She looked at him blindly, lost somewhere in her own head.

'I need you to be a doctor for another couple of hours,' his voice was soft but insistent. 'Can you be doctor Gilmore and help me save the people we can? Because if you break down I will be your boyfriend first and I need to be doctor Mariano to be able to help them.'

Her eyes met his and they kept the eyelock for a while, Rory slowly seeping back into herself.

'You with me?' he asked pleadingly. 'Doctor Gilmore?'

Rory nodded shakily.

'That's my girl.'

He studied her for another moment before he turned back towards the old lady in the wheelchair.

'What do we have?'

Rory sobered up.

'Seventy-two year old woman with upper body second and third degree burns. We cleared the clothing and applied local silver sulfadiazine.'

'Okay,' Jess inspected the woman's face and arms that were covered in blisters and in some places looked white and waxy.

'We can start fluids and an i.v. antibiotic. I think she'll need an i.v. analgetic too.'

'I'll get to it,' Rory nodded, moving to take her uniform jacket off and put on a pair of sterile gloves.

'Need help here,' a nurse called from curtain 17.

'Go,' Rory tilted her head towards Jess. 'I'll take care of her.'

Jess went towards curtain 17 where Tristan was leading the CPR.

Jess threw a look at the patient's papers as he put on a clean pair of surgical gloves.

Tristan looked up from the patient.

'She's bleeding, I'm not sure of the source,' he briefed Jess, 'We found her lying on the stairs, she was probably swept by the wave of people who ran for cover. She was hit repeatedly by the running crowd.'

Jess looked up at the young woman's vitals on the monitor.

'We have to cut open,' he said. 'She may have broken ribs that tore her spleen, maybe also her liver.'

'We don't have time to prepare her for surgery into the rooms down there, everything's already full. Do you think we can do this here?'

'Either we do it here, or we lose her anyway.'

Tristan's eyes met Jess' and he gave him a quick nod.

'Okay.'

'Ror, we'll need an anaesthesiologist here,' Jess called over his shoulder, then turned towards Helen who had joined them. 'We'll need two bags of blood for transfusion. Call the lead nurse of Surgery, tell her we need sterile laparotomy sets and as much surgical staff as she can spare, she can call the interns who are available, we can use as many assisting hands as she could deliver.'

...

'Hey,' Paris called from curtain 22. 'Need help here!'

Helen's head appeared.

'Can I be of help? They're finishing a splenectomy behind 17.'

Paris continued the cardiac massage.

'Do you have strong hands?' she looked up exasperatedly.

Helen thought about it for a second when someone drew the curtain open.

'Hey,' Tristan greeted Paris as he took the place opposite her and started cardiac massage so that she could catch her breath.

'Hey. Twenty-nine year old man with electrocution,' Paris reported while preparing an ambu mask.

'Any idea of the voltage of the current?'

'No. But judging by the damage, I guess it was high voltage.'

'For how long has he been in asystole?'

'About six, maybe seven minutes.'

Tristan stopped the cardiac massage for a moment to inspect the man.

'He has burns over both palms, he was probably holding onto a conductor. The current must've traversed the heart.'

'We started fluid resuscitation but he's hardly responding.'

'Prepare an ampule of sodium bicarbonate. It will keep myoglobin from precipitating into the renal tubules. The acidosis may cause the cardiac arrest.'

'Damn,' Paris cursed, pausing the ventilation to inspect the patient's abdomen. 'Look,' she pointed at the small red-bluish marks around his navel.

'Injection site bruising?'

'Yeah. He's probably diabetic. Are you okay to continue with the massage?'

'Sure.'

She made Helen a sign to switch places and Paris reached for a glucometer.

As they waited for the result they exchanged looks. Tristan kept on with the massage and Helen ventilated with the ambu.

The glucometer beeped.

'I'll get the glucose infusion,' Paris cheered up.

'Good job, Geller.' Tristan smirked.

A couple of minutes later the patient started coming to. They let out relieved sighs.

'Tristan Dugray,' Tristan offered Helen his hand with a trademark smirk.

Helen shook his hand and Paris could swear the older woman blushed.

'Helen,' she said with a sheepish smile.

'I'm glad we met, Helen,' Tristan gave her a nod and started to leave.

Paris huffed, rolling her eyes.

'You know him?' Helen asked.

'Just open a dictionary and look under the word pervert, you'll know everything you need.'

'Hey,' Tristan's head peeped back through the curtain. 'I heard that.'

Paris smiled tightly.

'You're still a pervert.'

'You can't know for sure without trying for yourself,' he wiggled his brows suggestively.

'See?' Paris gave Helen a triumphant look. 'Exactly as I said.'

* * *

'This Jess guy and Rory,' Tristan said as they headed for their lockers, 'are they like a serious thing or something?'

Paris narrowed her eyes.

'What?'

Tristan shrugged, indicating she'd heard him right.

'He serious about her?'

Paris sighed with obvious irritation. How was he coming up with these questions? He was unbelievable.

'She's his Kryptonite. That serious enough for you?'

His smirk went even wider.

'Just curious.'

Paris rolled her eyes.

'Yeah. Sure.'

They continued walking towards the locker room.

'In case you're wondering,' she stopped abruptly, making Tristan turn back involuntarily, 'Jess is the best of the best. He may look like an arrogant ass and has the charm of a grumpy old man. But he's still my best friend and if you try any stupid move on Rory I'll be the first to beat your tiny brain out of that perfectly sculpted skull of yours.'

Tristan watched her curiously before letting out an amused smirk.

'I'd forgotten how funny you are,' he said and continued his way towards the locker room with her following not far behind.

* * *

Jess got out of the bathroom drying his hair with a towel. Rory was already lying on her side of the bed, reading a book. She had her reading glasses on and he stopped for a moment admiring the domestic beauty of the sight.

As he lifted the bed cover and took his place next to her a couple of minutes later, she took her reading glasses off and put the book on the night stand. He turned on his side to have a better look at her face.

'Hey.'

'Hey.'

He watched her intently, the way her look averted from his every now and then not going unnoticed by him.

'You alright?' he asked softly.

'Yeah. Why wouldn't I?'

'I don't know. It's just... you've been kinda distant lately.'

Ever since he tried to talk to her after the Mexican girl case last week, something was off. He even tried to apologize but since he didn't know what he was apologizing about, it didn't work so well. Rory had just waved it off as something irrelevant. But your boyfriend asking questions about his girlfriend's secret abortion years ago wasn't exactly irrelevant, Jess insisted inwardly.

'It's been a long day,' Rory gave him a reassuring smile.

She was changing the subject. Somehow, this hurt. He wasn't some prying intruder, he was Jess. Her Jess. If something was bothering her it was bothering him too. But he didn't wanna push her. He'd never been that guy. He would wait. And he would listen. When the time came.

'Yeah,' he sighed wearily, accepting her lame excuse. Then looked up at her, his eyes searching hers. 'You really alright?'

'You're overworrying.'

He smiled back, although half-heartedly.

'This isn't a word.'

'Go to sleep, word naci boyfriend.'

'Hey.'

He cupped her cheek with his palm.

'I love you, you know this right?'

'I do,' Rory smiled, weariness suddenly showing through the layers of nonchalance she'd put on. 'Let's just get some rest, okay?'

He looked at her, wondering if she knew how much he really loved her.

'Okay.'

He reached to switch the night lamp off, the uneasy feeling in his gut still lingering as both of them lay awake for a long time before sleep won over.

* * *

 **TBC**


	15. Chapter 15

_Disclaimer: Nothing's mine._

* * *

 **A/N: WARNING: This chapter consists of parts that may be rated M. Nothing explicit, yet... If you're feeling offended, please feel free to skip.**

* * *

She tried to concentrate on the conversation on the table but it was getting harder to.

His fingers were gently touching her bare knee. When his hand inched up and his thumb traced her inner thigh, the temperature in the room seemed to rise. She choked on her wine, giving Jess a pointed look. His smile was unwavering as he was seemingly engrossed in the conversation. Contrary to his antics under the table, his expression didn't betray anything unusual was happening. Damn him and his poker face.

Outside the night was windy, with snow piling up against the windowsills. The restaurant was cozy though, the fireplace crackling and creating a festive atmosphere. The dinner was sponsored by a med tech company and most of the surgical staff was invited. Some of them couldn't make it though due to the shift schedule and snowy weather. When Rory asked Jess if they should go, he'd initially been ready to shrug it off but then for some reason reconsidered and said 'Sure. If you wanna go we'll go.' He'd been a little strange lately, as if he was waiting for her to take a step or start a conversation. She wasn't used to him being cautious like this. But maybe it was fair because she was feeling a little off herself.

The evening turned out to be a nice distraction from their everyday work routine. The restaurant was classy and expensive so it was nice to put on something nice and sophisticated for a change. The dress was one of the few expensive things in her wardrobe but it served the occasion well. It was a royal blue high neck long dress and wasn't really revealing but it was very close fitting and the slit ran boldly high up her thigh. Which was proving to be a fact that Jess had specifically taken into consideration tonight.

His thumb was lazily grazing slow eights over the sensitive skin of her thigh and her head was filling with thick red haze.

She leaned towards him, intending to ask him what the hell he was doing. His hand followed her movement moving up her thigh, his thumb chastely grazing the edge of her undergarments. She bit her lip to keep herself from reacting. Damn, how was this getting so out of hand so quickly?

'What are you doing?' she managed to whisper against his ear, trying to hide her face behind his shoulder, afraid her flushed appearance and breathy voice were gonna attract attention. His body was solid and warm next to her, radiating heat while she was all but shivering with nerves.

'The lacy white are my favorite,' he replied in a hushed undertone, his hot breath grazing her neck. 'I like the place where they end and how they match your skin.'

She was biting on her lip fiercely, there was a chance it might bleed any moment now.

The first time when he spoke to her like this was after last year's infamous New Year's Eve party. Both had had a couple drinks more in their system that night and when he saw her outfit as they got to his apartment later on he was so far gone, she wasn't sure he even realized what he was mumbling while he was discarding her of her attire. It wasn't meant to be particularly dirty or provoking, his mumbling that night was almost random. Almost. But it was unmistakably honest. He'd told her he had a favorite spot on her neck. Also, he told her she drove him mad when she dragged her nails down his nape. Like a bunch of secrets he'd been holding onto until that very moment, words spilled down his lips and onto hers and it was a new and unexpected turn in their relationship. She didn't think twice that night - she welcomed it, embraced it, because it meant both letting go and holding on. Letting go of their insecurities and exchanging that for holding onto each other. The whole time it kept her on her toes in the best of ways, making the whole process of lovemaking so much more personal. After that night, it became something they shared during their most intimate moments and she didn't think she could ever be this close to anybody. For someone like Jess who was so clustered in his manner of speaking, this came as a surprise. Rory was thankful he felt comfortable enough to share this part of himself with her. Because that night and many other nights after it, they discovered that random honesty was bliss.

However, those never happened out of the confines of their apartment. Not once had he been this outspoken outdoors, not to mention in the presence of an audience. Something was into him tonight though, she just couldn't pinpoint what. The thought of something being off sobered her up and she pushed his arm away cautiously, careful not to attract attention.

'Not here,' her voice came out exasperatedly, still heavy with the feelings he had evoked.

She watched as Jess' smirk stood in place, his look fixed on something ahead. When she traced his gaze, she saw Tristan on the opposite end of the table, looking rather uncomfortable. Had he... _Oh my god._

She felt her face burn and the realization finally hit her.

'Excuse me,' she stood up from the table and headed for the bathroom. She felt the anger burn her chest, making her emotions blow up and combust.

She felt a hand over her arm just as she approached the bathroom.

'Rory.'

She entered the bathroom and turned around abruptly, making Jess halt so that he didn't bump into her.

'What the hell were you thinking?' she hissed, pointing her index finger at his dress shirt clad chest, her eyes shooting daggers. At least he had the decency to look mildly apologetic.

He opened his mouth to speak but she didn't let him.

'Do you have any idea how embarrassed you made me in there?' she waved a hand towards the door. Her eyes were sparkling with anger and humiliation. She'd always trusted him with herself. Damn, now he had made her doubt that.

'This was such a jerky move,' she shook her head disbelievingly. A tear rolled from the corner of her eye. 'Whatever stupid reasoning you got for doing this, save it. I can't believe you actually did it.'

'Hey,' he reached out and wiped her tear with his thumb. His voice was soft and somber. She turned away from him, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. He stepped to the side so he was facing her again and took her by the shoulders to draw her into an embrace.

'I'm sorry,' he whispered. 'It was... stupid.'

'Stupid?' she drew back to face him. ' _Stupid_?.'

She couldn't believe him.

'It was _outrageous_. Why would you do something like this, especially when Tristan could see...' Then realization dawned on her. 'Because you wanted him to see.'

It was like her mind was trying to process some new information but it was so foreign and unintelligible that her brain wanted to shut down.

'I can't believe you're jealous,' she uttered incredulously, as if the very thought of Jess being jealous filled her with bewilderment.

Jess mumbled something along the line of 'Not jealous.'

'Of Tristan,' she continued, still unable to process how someone as steady and smug as Jess could go from being this to feeling genuinely insecure. So insecure that he would put her in a compromising position only to prove that he could. He had used her vulnerability around him for all the wrong reasons. And it hurt.

She put her hands on both sides of his face and turned him towards her, as if she was still having a hard time believing he performed some caveman act proving a point to some other guy. Sure, Tristan was a shameless flirt and he did put some extra effort into getting on Jess' nerves but that's what he did - Tristan flirted and he teased. She believed he was a genuinely decent guy when he wasn't busy being a jerk. And Jess had fallen for that playboy act.

'You're insane,' she shook her head. 'This was something you and I shared, something between only the two of us. And you took it to prove your point to some random guy I'm working with? That's so much worse than peeing all over me.'

There was so much disappointment in her words, it stung. His face contorted into a painful grimace. He was starting to realize how badly he had handled this.

'Jealous Jess is so stupid,' she whispered and left the room, leaving him staring at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror.

* * *

The rest of the dinner was uneventful, with Rory doing the rest of the talking at their table while Jess was busy keeping his mouth shut and studying the pattern of the tablecloth.

When dinner was over and everybody rose he threw Rory a cautious look but she avoided eye contact and headed for the dressing room.

Jess took her coat and held it for her as she slipped into it. Tristan was waiting for his own coat a couple of steps behind.

As Jess put on his own coat Rory turned and caught his face between both palms, engaging him into a lascivious kiss. He thought maybe he was daydreaming but then again he gathered her into his arms and returned her fervor.

When they broke apart for air he looked at her incredulously.

'You okay?' he asked her, although he was the one who looked like he had been smacked with a baseball bat.

'Yeah,' she smiled, amused by his puzzled expression. 'Why wouldn't I?'

Then she turned towards Tristan who was standing a couple of feet away, pretty speechless himself.

'Night, Tristan,' Rory gave him a quick wave and started towards the cab that was waiting for them outside.

They spent the drive home in silence and she told the driver to pull off near the curb a couple of blocks away from their apartment. The car stopped, Rory got off and Jess followed.

'I thought we could walk for a while,' she said matter-of-factly as they walked in the deserted snow-covered street. The wind had stopped and the snow was lazily falling in the streetlight.

He looked at her incredulously, seemingly pulled out of his own thoughts.

'You look confused,' she noted lightly.

'I...' he scratched the back of his head. 'I'm just surprised you're letting me off the hook, I guess.'

'Who says you're off the hook?' she asked cheerily. 'You're doing laundry until the end of next month.'

His brows furrowed.

'Are... are we're okay?' he asked with so much reluctant hope that she almost felt sorry for giving him the silent treatment until just minutes ago.

She sighed, stopping to give him a look.

'The stunt you pulled in there,' she gestured in the general direction of the restaurant, 'nothing near it is happening ever again,' she said in a calm but firm voice. 'Never include third parties between me and you. If something is bothering you, we talk about it and see what we do about it.'

She paused to brace herself and sighed with resignation, suddenly feeling weary.

'As far as you don't go around peeing over me and you talk to me first when you see a problem coming, we're okay.'

He nodded, still not looking very convinced.

'When I failed my residency exam,' she explained, resuming their slow walk, 'I had a hard time redeeming my self esteem. I kinda went ballistic about every time you were late from work. I even checked your phone.'

'For what?' he asked, even more perplexed than a minute ago.

She shrugged sheepishly. He navigated them around a frozen puddle.

'For corrupted sexting with a younger bimbo intern. I don't know,' she sighed, remembering how lost and insecure she felt back then.

'Really?' he asked disbelievingly.

'Yeah. Paris had a great time at my expense. Look, what I mean is, with all that's been over our heads lately, I know we've been under a lot of pressure.'

He stopped and looked up, the expression in his eyes pained.

'I'm going crazy when you hide stuff from me,' he admitted helplessly, the look in his eyes pleading when he looked back at her.

'What are you talking about?'

'Whenever I try to ask you about the abortion, I bump into a wall and you clam in. I don't know if I'm going paranoid or if there's actually something more there.'

Her look was stern over his, a mixture of hurt and reprimand. The snowflakes fell like a transparent curtain between them as they kept the eyelock.

'Don't you trust me?' she asked.

'I don't trust me.'

'About what?'

'Keeping you,' he breathed out. His confession bore so much sincerity that her look softened immediately.

She took a breath and cupped his face with her palm. His clean-shaven cheek felt cool and wet from the snow.

'I'm crazy in love with you, Jess Mariano, can you do me a favor and never forget it?'

The look in her eyes was intense. He kept her gaze, as if proof testing it. For a moment they stood in silence, letting the truce sink in. Then his mouth broke into a grin.

'I can't believe you went through my phone,' he said, making light of the situation.

She smiled too, letting him take her hand and lead them towards their apartment.

'It was a dark time,' she shrugged, 'but eventually I got through it.'

They walked, her hand fitting easily into his. The quiet of the evening enveloped them in its serenity. They'd reached their apartment building when he heard her voice, small and fragile.

'I'll tell you when I'm ready. Just... don't go ballistic, okay?'

He looked at her and his eyes were sparkling with an animosity they'd been lacking lately.

Their hands clasped tighter and the space between their palms felt warm.

He realized that, if it was possible, tonight he started loving her even more than he already was.

* * *

 **TBC**


	16. Chapter 16

_Disclaimer_ : _Not mine, etc._

* * *

'Eleven year old girl with abdominal pain after a school fight.'

Paris looked at the girl's papers and nodded towards the ultrasound machine.

'Okay, Molly,' she turned towards the girl, 'let's have a look.'

She took the transducer, applied some ultrasound gel and started examining the girl's abdomen.

'No ascites.'

Helen started writing down in the papers as Paris continued moving the transducer to the girl's right side.

'Liver and gallbladder look... fine... Spleen and pancreas...' she moved the transducer in the opposite direction. 'Fine, too.'

She was about to move the transducer to the side in order to look at the girl's kidneys but something caught her attention midway.

'Can you get me the vascular transducer from curtain five?'

'Um, sure,' Helen nodded.

Five minutes later Paris looked up, worried.

'Helen?'

'Yeah?'

'Call Atkinson.'

'The Chief?' Helen asked, her eyes darting between the ultrasound machine monitor and Paris' concerned eyes.

'Helen,' Paris shot her a glare, 'Go.'

* * *

'The diameter is over 55 centimeters,' Atkinson nodded as he put the transducer back. 'It may be compressing the abdominal organs causing the complaints. Assign CT contrast aortography, cito. Tell me when the results are in.'

Paris nodded, reaching for her mobile.

'And, Geller?'

'Chief?'

'Gather a surgical team and brief them on the case. Call a vascular surgeon, I think I saw Alinski in the elevator this morning.'

* * *

The building was new and tidy. Such apartment buildings had a private underground parking lot which was pretty impressive in itself, so the neighborhood was borderline expensive. Tristan Dugray came from money and that single fact probably helped. While other residents had to save up for a one bedroom apartment, others had the privilege to live in posh buildings that had underground parking lots.

'Where's Jess?' Paris asked as they waited for the elevator, a distrustful expression on her face as she studied the spacious foyer.

Rory turned towards her friend, scrunching her nose.

'Packing.'

'You're kicking him out? I thought you two were in love or something.'

The elevator doors slid open with a ding and they stepped in.

'Ha-ha. We're visiting mom's for Thanksgiving.'

'Oh.'

Rory rolled her eyes.

'Don't ' _oh_ ' me. We're simply visiting.'

'Whatever.'

'You should've seen Jess' face when I told him we're spending the weekend with my mom. His face found new ways to cringe, it was hilarious. What's with men and their girlfriends' moms?'

Paris didn't reply. Her mind was elsewhere. She and Doyle had signed the shared custody papers a couple of weeks ago and Paris wasn't very verbal ever since. Rory tried to ask and get some detail but Paris had waved it off as too much drama for lunch and they hadn't revisited the topic since. With such a forward person like Paris it was strange to ignore the pink elephant in the room. But then again, who could blame her for wanting some time to process the changes in her life?

'Remind me again, why are we here?' Paris asked, sounding irritable.

'Because Tristan performed this surgery in Turkey, assisting one of the best vascular surgeons humanity has known?'

'Lucky bastard,' Paris sighed.

'And because Alinski said he wanted Tristan in on the case.'

The elevator doors slid open. Paris kept silent, her look roaming the hallway.

'You have something against him?' Rory asked doubtfully.

Paris looked up, confused.

'Alinski?'

'Tristan. The rest of the female population seem pretty fascinated by his charm.'

'The rest of the female population is a bunch of brainless bimbos,' Paris shrugged. 'But if they're interested in the everlasting man-child they've figured it out.'

'I haven't seen women drool over someone that much,' Rory said thoughtfully.

'His relationship with the nurses is less than intriguing, believe me.'

Rory kept diplomatically silent. She did see him leave with one of the preppy nurses of Neurosurgery last night. The girl didn't seem to mind. In fact, she was all but hanging on his arm. Tristan had a way of drawing women in without particularly chasing them. He made himself available and that's about all it took for them to throw themselves at him. Nice.

They reached a door that read _Dugray_ and Rory rang the bell.

Tristan appeared at the door wearing a worn Popeye T-shirt with an _I yam what I yam_ print and loose sweatpants. He looked like he'd just rolled out of bed yet he had the easy charm of a man-boy poster child.

'Really?' Paris rolled her eyes at his T-shirt. 'What are you - ten?'

Tristan scratched the back of his head and let them in.

'Did you get rid of the skanks?' Paris asked, looking around suspiciously.

'I'm keeping a low profile,' Tristan replied snidely.

'Like I know what that even means in your head,' Paris shot back.

'Skank-free,' he sighed.

This was new. Rory didn't think she'd seen Tristan Dugray in a sore mood. Usually he was the one who pissed other people, not the other way around. Funny. Rory looked between the two, not sure if she was missing something and even if there was anything to miss.

'You have a nice place,' Rory said turning to Tristan, trying to lighten the mood.

'Thanks,' Tristan mumbled sulkily.

Okay, so there was something. No ' _You have to check it out for yourself babe_ ' comment. No ' _Wait to see the master bedroom and the Master of the bedroom_ ' or ' _If the furniture could speak, it would be PG 18_ '.

After the official dinner exchange Tristan's behavior had changed. He had become less intruding and more... _respectful_? Whoa. He'd backed off. It was official. As much as Rory had enjoyed the positive attention, she felt relieved that this page seemed closed.

She looked around. The apartment was surprisingly neat. Not the bachelor pad one would imagine one Tristan Dugray would dwell.

The living room had a kitchen island, sofa and a coffee table with a forty-something inch plasma TV on the wall. There was a bookshelf with actual _books_ on it. No bras and thongs hanging from the ceiling fan. She threw a look up at the ceiling, just in case. Yep. None.

Tristan rubbed the back of his neck and looked at them, waving at the kitchen island.

'I have soda, coffee and...'

'Look,' Paris cut in, 'let me skip ahead through this conversation so we can stop wasting time on mundane talk and move on to getting some actual work done. Rory wants long black coffee one sugar no milk, I want triple espresso clean but we're not gonna have those because that's not why we're here. Why we're here is because an eleven year old kid has abdominal aneurysm the size of a boa. Now that we're done with the pleasantries, let's sit and figure out how to save this kid's life so we can get this over with because Josh has the flu and the nanny has midterms,' Paris prompted.

Rory and Tristan exchanged looks. Tristan shook his head with a sigh, taking a seat on the couch.

'Okay,' he motioned forward, 'show me the papers.'

...

'Is it palpable?'

'Only on deeper palpation. The sac is more prominent towards the retroperitoneum.'

'What about the kidneys?' Tristan flipped through Molly's file, searching for the ultrasound images.

'No hydronephrosis,' Paris answered with closed eyes. She had leaned back against the sofa and answered Tristan's questions without the need to check the papers. 'But her blood pressure was high.'

Tristan rubbed his stubble pensively.

'The aneurysm must be pressing one of the renal arteries causing the hypertensive response. Did you test for Marfan's?'

'Yeah, the eye examination and echoCG are negative. The CT scan is negative for dural ectasia. We ran genetic testing but the results aren't in yet.'

'Okay,' he nodded, chewing on the inside of his cheek, 'let me make a few calls and I'll come see the kid.'

He stood up and took his mobile from the coffee table.

Paris opened her eyes and looked around wearily. Rory had left because of a shift in the bus schedule. She and Jess had to start for Stars Hollow earlier if they wanted to go before they were snowed in. So it was her and Dugray in his posh apartment. It wasn't even posh enough to fit the stereotype, yet... She rested back, closing her eyes again. God, she was spent. She needed rest and she needed papaya.

Tristan's voice sounded from the hallway.

'Hey, Sofie, it's Tristan. Yeah, hey yourself. Look, something came up, is it okay if I come five thirty? Great. You're a life savior, Sof. Really. Thanks. Yeah, you too.'

A couple of minutes later he appeared at the door, jeans and a _Johnny Bravo_ tee on.

'How do you manage handling so many women's names without getting them mixed?' Paris asked with a mixture of admiration and disgust.

Tristan had been texting on his mobile and looked up with a smirk, arching an eyebrow at Paris' comment.

'I edit their names to ' _low battery_ ' when I'm no longer interested,' he shrugged, his nonchalant tone challenging her to comment. 'Anything else you'd like to know?'

'Nope. Let's get to the hospital. You have a car?'

Then she narrowed her eyes, as if remembering something.

'Have you been partying last night? Are you hungover? Or high? Are you high?'

'Right now, you seem more into dope than I've ever been,' Tristan tilted his head to the side containing a laugh. 'Come on, my car is parked downstairs.'

He studied her for a moment and smirked.

'Or you can always take an uber and be late for Josh.'

* * *

'So,' Tristan took the seat next to Molly's bed while Paris pushed the ultrasound machine into the room. 'School fight, eh?'

The girl smiled, a little embarrassed.

'Yeah.'

'Who started it?' he asked with what seemed like genuine curiosity.

Molly's eyes darted up, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. Paris mouthed ' _What the fuck_ ' behind Molly's back. Tristan's smile grew even more languid. Paris rolled her eyes and plugged the ultrasound in.

'So, you started a fight with a classmate because...' he drawled.

Molly's cheeks turned red.

Tristan's eyes flashed knowingly.

'I used to tease the girls I liked,' he said with a friendly smile. 'It took me some time to see it didn't work that well.'

He adjusted the ultrasound machine's settings and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms leisurely.

'What's his name?'

Molly pressed her lips together as if debating whether or not he looked trustworthy.

'Adam,' she said and her cheeks flushed even more.

'He didn't even hit me that hard,' she continued with determination. 'It was just a stupid fight.'

'You know,' Tristan leaned towards the girl conspiratorially, 'he didn't cause your aneurysm. In fact, he helped us find it. If you hadn't gotten into that fight, we wouldn't know it was there all along. Now we can treat it.'

Molly's eyes sparkled. Tristan's words had worked their magic and her face was beaming like he had just handled her free _Ariana Grande_ tickets.

'It's okay to show him you like him too,' he said with a wink, then reached for the transducer and applied some ultrasound gel over Molly's abdomen.

Paris had watched the whole interaction with narrowed eyes and was about to comment on Tristan playing _Lil Miss Matchmaker_ when her mobile beeped. She went a couple of steps away and picked up.

'Hello?... At the hospital. Why, is he vomiting again? Is he feverish? Okay I'm listening...' she listened for a couple of seconds, her face contorting into a stoic grimace.

'Okay. Yes I remember you have midterms... I'm doing everything I...' she listened some more, her eyes shooting daggers. 'And I have patients whose lives I'm responsible for...'

She paced a couple of steps and took a deep breath.

'No, I'll be there. I said I'll be there okay? Yeah. Okay.'

Paris hung up and leaned back against the wall, closing her eyes.

'The nanny is summoning me,' she sighed tiredly, banging her head back against the wall a couple of times.

'Okay, I'll finish here,' Tristan shrugged, moving the transducer to Molly's right.

Paris' look roamed the room, darting between Molly and Tristan. Her jaw ticked and she gave him a short nod before she made a beeline out of the room.

As soon as she closed the door after herself, she paused trying to catch her breath.

She felt like she was suffocating. Her lungs hurt, her head buzzed and her eyes were beginning to well.

'Not now,' she hissed to herself. 'You can't have a panic attack now.'

She ground her teeth and forced the lump down. She couldn't freak out now. Now was not the time to lose her focus. Not when her son needed her. Her patient needed her too, but she couldn't take care of both at the same time could she?

What kind of mother spent her free day at the hospital? What kind of doctor left her eleven-year old patient hanging?

If she couldn't handle the responsibilities of a mother and a doctor, why was she trying to pretend she could?

Her head was about to explode and she hurried to get outside on the ambulance parking lot.

 _Prioritize_ , she chastised herself. _Prioritize, dammit._

Snowflakes were falling down, forming piles over the sidewalks. The air was crispy and numbed her flushed face. She took quick deep breaths, letting the chill fill her lungs.

She lifted her mobile with a shaky hand and dialed for a taxi. When the starter answered, Paris' voice was calm and steady.

* * *

 **TBC**


	17. Chapter 17

_Disclaimer : The characters belong to ASP, etc._

* * *

'You look like crap.'

'Gee thanks.'

'How's Josh?'

'He was still febrile last night, so I stayed up, giving him paracetamol in between naps. We kinda had a fight with the nanny on Friday. This morning when she showed up I cried a little. They were happy tears.'

'Look, what about tonight I come at your place and we'll take turns staying up.'

'Yes please.'

'Paris, are you about to cry again?'

'Maybe.'

'Man, you're spent. Come on, let me buy you coffee. Have you had breakfast?'

Paris thought about it for a moment.

'I don't know. What date is it?'

'Okay, I'm getting you breakfast too. Here we leave for two days and I find you on the verge of existence,' Rory sighed dramatically, nursing Paris towards the cafeteria.

* * *

She had crossed half the corridor before she heard her name.

'Hey,' Tristan caught up with her, looking at her questioningly. 'Everything okay? You...'

He studied her appearance and was about to say 'look like crap' but swallowed it back and replaced it with

'You okay?'

'Yeah, everything's dandy' Paris said with mock cheerfulness. 'Josh is still febrile, the nanny failed one of her midterm and I'm dealing with angerball and blame issues.'

Tristan blinked a couple of times, then some neuron path in his brain seemed to snap and dismiss the information as he continued.

'About Molly...'

'About Molly, I'll call Alinski,' Paris cut in.

Tristan's eyes narrowed.

'Ehm, why?'

'To fill up for me. Obviously.'

'I can take on her case.'

'Yeah, sure.' she rolled her eyes.

'I don't see why not,' Tristan said, his voice filled with actual wonder.

'This case involves a lot of legwork,' Paris clipped, impatient to get into her first surgery for the day.

'I'm known for my excellent work on legs,' Tristan pointed out proudly.

Paris made a disgusted grimace and shook her head, as if to chase the image he'd just put in her head. He just had to trigger her gag reflex with his concept of the female gender.

'Whatever.'

'I mean it,' he insisted. 'I can handle this case.'

Paris sighed, irritated that he wouldn't just mind his own business. She'd hardly slept two hours for the last twenty-four hours, she just wanted him to magically disappear and leave her the hell alone.

'Aren't you already preoccupied?'

'If I need someone to fill in my labs, I can ask Rory to loan me some of her minions,' he shrugged, only half joking.

'Can you be serious for a minute?'

'I don't know, is there free cash if I am?' he smirked.

Jeez, did this guy have any idea how lame his attempt at humor was? She had to be really spent, otherwise she would've already effectively brushed him off.

'Instead of wasting my time on you, I should've gone and done something useful,' she sighed, feeling the weight of too many sleepless nights.

She was already crammed with work, hardly functioning as it was. She had to delegate or she was gonna mess up a case.

'Like?'

'Like finding someone who actually gave a crap for this case.'

She thought for a second before adding,

'Or listening to _One Direction_.'

'I do give a crap for this case,' he said seriously. Then motioned towards Molly's room. 'I am here, am I not?'

'And I'm not,' Paris countered bitterly, daring him to agree with her.

'You can't be everywhere,' Tristan said, his voice raising a notch. 'That's why you have colleagues who offer to cover for you dammit.'

'Opposed to going to what's her name,' Paris retorted.

Tristan narrowed his eyes, pausing as some thought nibbled his brain.

'You have a problem?'

'Me?'

'Yeah.'

'Nope. I'm all sunshine and rainbows.'

'Look,' he sighed, 'I take it you're going through some shitty time in your life with your divorce and all, but you're not taking it out on me okay?'

'What are you talking about?'

'Oh please,' he huffed. 'All the man-whore comments? Those were hardly asked for.'

'I'm not the one who makes sex with the nurses sound like an Olympic sport.'

'So what? I date women. If the mood strikes I have sex with them. What's wrong with that?'

'Nothing,' Paris shrugged. 'Why should professional ethics be of any concern really?'

'Just listen to yourself,' he lowered his head and chuckled sarcastically, 'since when did you become the chairperson of the Ethic Committee?'

'Why not? If there's any organized activity that requires a chairperson I imagine I would be perfectly fit for the job.'

'I can't believe we're having this conversation.'

'I'm not the one who started it,' she folded her hands stubbornly.

'Well, you're the one who provoked it.'

She rolled her eyes and stood her ground, crossing her arms before her chest.

'Okay,' he sighed, 'I've had enough of this. You're impossible to reason with.'

He started to walk away. Paris' eyes shot daggers at his back.

Just as he turned the corner of the hospital corridor, he paused.

'I'm taking on Molly's case, with or without you,' he said loud enough for her to hear, his voice void of the edge it had born only seconds ago.

* * *

'It's called seroma,' Rory was just explaining to the young woman as Paris entered the exam room and stopped by the door. 'Sometimes it complicates plastic surgeries.'

'But you can treat it, right?'

The patient's lips were visibly too full to be natural and her breasts heaved dangerously as she took deep breaths while Rory listened to her lungs. She was like a Barbie personification. A slightly creepy Barbie personification. Currently her abdomen was bare and there was something that looked like a giant blister, swollen and tense.

'We'll have to drain it with a needle,' Rory continued.

'Is it necessary?' the woman asked.

'Unless you want to risk it getting infected, yeah,' Paris interfered, winning an reproachful look from Rory and a scared one from the patient.

'But it was just a tummy tuck,' the woman sighed with pouty lips.

'You know what they say, once your tummy tuck gets infected, the joke's on your plastic surgeon,' Paris said.

'Who says that?' Barbie asked.

'No one actually,' Paris sighed. 'If you get sick the joke will be all on you, so take care of yourself,' she said and made Rory a sign she'd be waiting for her outside.

As Rory exited the patient's room a couple of minutes later she gave Paris a once-over.

'Have you eaten?' she asked suspiciously.

Paris rolled her eyes.

'You bought me breakfast didn't you?'

'Have you eaten it?'

'Yes, Grandma.'

'Okay,' Rory relaxed visibly. 'Don't be randomly cruel to patients.'

'I'm always randomly cruel to patients,' Paris shrugged. 'Most of them mistake honesty for cruelty.'

Rory suppressed a smile trying to look reproachful. Truly, the patient had agreed to have her seroma drained right away after Paris left the room.

'Now key,' Rory demanded reaching out her hand with an open palm.

'Key,' Paris repeated as she placed the key into Rory's palm. 'Here.'

'You got your own key right?'

'Duh, Grandma.'

'Good,' Rory smiled contently. 'Go have some lunch, I'll have Jess bring Chinese on his way.'

'I'll come as soon as I'm out of the hemicolectomy. When he's sleepy Josh always gets crabby. He starts making excuses not to go to sleep like needing to pee or wanting water. Don't let him fool you. His spare clothes are...'

'In the upper cabinet to the left,' Rory finished for her.

'The thermometer is on the kitchen island, along with the ibuprofen and paracetamol.'

'I got it, Paris.'

'He tends to want to eat a lot of junk, don't let him dinner with pop tarts. '

'Who's the grandma now? Okay.'

'He may throw a tantrum about something irrational like wanting to eat rusty nails or wanting his shadow away from him. He'll scream like crazy and try to kick you. Try not to mind him and he'll stop. Eventually.'

'Okay.'

'The shortcut to _Zootopia_ is on the desktop. He loves watching it before he goes to sleep.'

'Paris. I got it. Breathe. Go.'

'In case of an emergency if I'm in surgery...'

'I'll call the nanny.'

Paris opened her mouth, but Rory was faster.

'I got her number. GO.'

* * *

Paris turned the key into the keyhole and slowly opened the front door, looking around suspiciously. It was uncharacteristically quiet. She tiptoed towards the living room, grabbing an umbrella on her way, in case someone had busted into her apartment and killed all witnesses.

'Rory?'

Nothing.

'Jess?'

The lights were on in the living room. Paris carefully pushed the door open holding her breath.

The sight shocked her nearly as much as finding a mass murder scene would. Her son was sleeping. Rory and Jess were sprawled on the sofa which had been made into a makeshift bed and between them Josh was sleeping with his head resting on Rory's lap and his feet poking at Jess' abdomen.

Paris stood at the door watching the scene for a while, then moved on to her bedroom (after a last check on everybody's pulse).

* * *

'And then we danced the _Whip/Nae Nae_ dance,' Rory explained excitedly. 'I must say Josh is a natural, he totally rocked it, right Josh?'

Josh grinned above his bawl of cereal, his mouth covered in cookie crisp.

'Yes,' he said with his mouth half full, 'Josh wocks.'

'You do, buddy,' Paris smiled, giving him a high five as she placed a pot with freshly brewed coffee on the table.

'Josh danzez,' Josh said.

'That's right,' Paris confirmed. 'Where's Jess?' she turned towards Rory.

'Got called in. Ulcer perforation.'

'What about you? Aren't you draining Barbie's seroma today?'

'Yeah, but I decided to let you sleep for another hour so I asked Tristan to fill up for me.'

'Isn't he just wonderful,' Paris said sarcastically. 'He's like the plague, keeps showing up everywhere.'

'He works there,' Rory tried to reason.

'Ple-e-ig,' Josh repeated in gibberish.

'That's right buddy,' Paris ruffled his hair. 'You're a clever kid, Josh.'

* * *

Tristan tended to the wound, applying disinfectant.

'The pain's gonna be over in a couple of seconds,' he explained.

The patient's eyes were trained on him, she all but eating his profile.

'Is it gonna be alright?' she batted heavily painted eyelids at him. He smiled a lopsided grin.

'I'll make sure it is.'

Barbie seemed to relax.

'Bethany, right?' Tristan asked, eyes darting up for a moment as he dressed up the wound.

The woman's face stilled in momentary surprise that he'd remembered her name, then smiled shyly.

'Betty.'

'You are beautiful, Betty.' Tristan said in a soft, seemingly sincere voice, his eyes calmly trained on Betty's. He sounded dead serious.

Paris watched dumbfound as he leaned towards the patient and gently tipped her nose with his point finger in an intimate gesture, then stood up and started to leave the exam room. As soon as he spotted her at the door his face fell, his jaw tensing.

As they were both outside he closed the door shut and straightened up, towering over Paris with his six feet.

'Alinski's asking for you,' she said awkwardly, justifying her presence in the exam room seconds ago.

Tristan's brows were drawn together, as if he was waiting for her to continue.

'This,' she gestured towards the exam room, 'This was...'

She shook her head disbelievingly. Tristan folded his arms, bracing himself for a fight.

'It was amazing,' she uttered, clearly too surprised she was saying it at all. 'It was kind and thoughtful and... wow.'

There was a flash of surprise in Tristan's eyes at the realization.

Paris hadn't misunderstood what she'd seen. Instead, she'd taken it for what it was. He would do the same, had the patient been ninety years old or coyote ugly. He did it not because he was having ulterior motives but because it needed to be done and somehow this had transpired.

Both still surprised with each other, Paris and Tristan exchanged nods before parting ways, the air between them changing a tad.

* * *

'I don't wanna be a failure,' her voice reached him, sounding uncharacteristically small and weak. Tristan turned back in the locker room, finding Paris' characteristic belligerent posture deflated, shoulders slumped.

'I'm failing,' she sighed. 'As a wife. As a mother. I'm trying so hard but still I'm failing. Josh has the flu and has been febrile for three days. I'm fighting with the nanny almost as much as we used to fight with Doyle, only I'm more scared of her leaving me. I'm behind with my PHD. Molly's case isn't getting anywhere and God, I'm under so much pressure my eyes might actually bawl out. I don't need any other reminders what a failure I am.'

He frowned, not really getting where she was going with this.

'What are you talking about?'

'You were the first guy I had a crush on.'

'O-kay?'

'And I failed,' she smiled sadly. 'I tried so hard to get your attention but you never noticed.'

'What?'

'You were dating all those meaningless girls, but you wouldn't date me. You were into Rory I get it, but this didn't stop you from dating all those other girls and they weren't even that prettier than me.'

'Are you talking about Chilton?'

'Forget it,' she shook her head, 'this has been far too embarrassing already. I should've known your brain is smaller than your balls.'

'If you wanna know, my balls are pretty impressive.'

'I don't wanna know.'

'Just give me a second okay? Just-' he lifted his palm making her a sign to wait - 'stop and don't talk for a while.'

She did. He lifted a hand to rub his nape and hung his head forward, seemingly processing the information. A minute passed. Then another.

'Look,' she sighed, intending to suggest they forgot about it. He lifted his palm making her stop.

'So,' he said thoughtfully, 'are you saying I trigger some buried insecurity complex you've had since Chilton and now that your life is upside down all your insecurities are turning to bite you in the back?'

Paris opened her mouth and closed it. Okay, the guy wasn't that dumb.

'I didn't date you again because I was into someone else and it would've been pointless,' he said and Paris rolled her eyes. Duh. Maybe he was dumb after all.

'And you were too smart for that. I didn't want to lead you on when I was into someone else.'

Again, Paris didn't know what to say.

'Look,' he sighed, 'Chilton happened a long time ago. I suggest you get over it and find yourself another melodramatic scenario to weep over. Until then, leave me and my bedroom alone okay?'

'You have no idea what going through a divorce is,' she said, suddenly feeling the need to justify her irrational behavior. 'I'm barely surviving, I'm stuck into a pencil sharpener and every passing day is another twist.'

He held her gaze, calmly studying her. She searched to find mockery in his eyes. She didn't.

After a moment he gave her a slight nod.

'I've been through much worse,' he said. 'Someday, sooner or later, your life will start making sense again.'

'Yeah, sure,' she rolled her eyes.

The corners of his mouth moved up as if he'd expected her answer.

He'd already started to leave when she found her voice.

'Really?'

He rose his hand in the air to show her the finger. She smiled.

'Hey Tristan,' she called after him. He turned, hands in the pockets of his scrubs.

'I might've been a bit out of line.'

Yeah. _A bit_ was a fine way to describe it.

Tristan smirked and gave her a nonchalant shrug.

'Just don't act bitchy and we'll be okay.'

'No guarantees.'

'Yeah. I figured.'

'We're not friends,' she reminded.

He shook his head with a smirk and continued on his way out of the lockers room.

* * *

She watched as his breath stilled in his throat and his eyes glazed over. It was a beautiful revelation, to see that joy could do this to someone you love. The little death, followed by slowly regaining his wake.

As their eyes met again the corners of Jess' mouth moved up an inch.

He braced himself on one hand, lifting the other to smooth Rory's hair back.

The heat from his eyes was slowly making way for satisfaction and then, ultimately, tenderness.

'We should do this all the time,' he lowered his head to whisper into her ear, his breath tickling her neck.

'We should,' she chuckled.

'We should also get ourselves a house and fill it up with memories.'

She stiffened beneath him, suddenly feeling rigid and distant.

'Hey,' he lifted a palm to cup her face. 'Rory.'

She evaded his look and pushed his chest with her palms, disentangling herself from him, trying to get up.

'Ror,' he sat up too, gently pulling her elbow. 'What's wrong?'

'I...' she shook her head. 'I'm sorry, I need a minute.'

She got off the bed and put on a pair of sweatpants with a jersey.

Jess found her on the terrace of their apartment. The night was chilly but the snow had melted a couple of days ago so the air was dry and crispy.

He approached her and put his arms around her from the back, bringing the ends of the blanket he'd thrown over his shoulders so it was wrapped around them both.

He leaned his chin against her shoulder, touching his lips to her neck.

They stood like this for a while, until she started to relax against him.

He could feel a dampness against his temple, knowing it rolled down her cheek.

He took a breath, nuzzling her ear with his nose.

'Please talk to me,' he pleaded softly.

'I'm sorry,' she sniffed and wiped her sides with the backs of her palms. 'I know you'll think this is me overreacting but I have to be honest with you and you have to believe me.'

She turned in his arms so she was facing him and shook her head with a wavering smile.

'Jess, I don't think I'll ever be that person.'

'What person?' he asked, narrowing his eyes, not seeing where all of this came from.

'The one who gives you a child and a family and...'

Jess opened his mouth to speak but she was faster as she continued.

'You know those unicorn women who can be your partner and the mother of your child, who manage to balance a career and a family - I'm not one of them. I don't see myself as a mother...'

She paused and took a breath. Then whispered, barely audible, the weight of the confession making her voice falter.

'Like, ever.'

She was looking up at him and her eyes were those deep pools of troubled blue, it broke his heart.

'Rory.'

'No,' she wiped her eyes vigorously, angry with her own loss of control, 'you need to hear me out.'

He studied her, noticing the sharp gleam in her eyes, the fast pulse on her neck, the stiffness of her jaw.

He took her hands in his and gently pulled her along so that they got inside the room and sat down on the couch, facing each other.

He held her look as he gave her a small encouraging nod.

'Okay.'

'I see those kids with their moms in the park and...' she shook her head, 'I feel nothing.'

She studied their holding hands for a while before gathering the strength to continue.

'I hold Josh and Kevin and they're all packed with tons of cuteness and they simply light my world, but I never think ' _Gosh, maybe one day... one day I wanna have a kid of my own_ '.'

He ran his thumbs along her cheeks, wiping tears she didn't realize kept rolling.

'And when I imagine my life say ten, twenty years from now, I never picture a kid. I think you haven't realized it quite yet, but deep inside, you want a family.'

She saw his jaw twitch in an effort to not interrupt her. He listened though.

'You're used to thinking you're somehow damaged by everything that happened with you and your mom, but I can see how you're healing and you just have this amazing... _light_ inside you. It's so bright and pure, it's radiating all around you. Life has been hard on you, but you became someone who goes through a hard time and walks out of it stronger. One day you'll want to have kids and I'm not the woman who will give this to you. All that being said, when I picture a future for myself, I can't bring myself to cut you out of it. That's just how selfish I am. When I think of someone else giving this to you, I feel like I'm suffocating and I just...'

'I look at you and I see everything I'll ever need,' he said, his voice hoarse with emotion.

'Don't give up on me,' she whispered.

'I don't want any other kind of future but one that has you in it.'

'Don't give up on me.'

'I'm not finished falling in love with you yet, Gilmore.'

She buried her face in his chest, letting him absorb her sobs.

When her sobs quieted, he drew back to take a look at her, continuing to stroke her hair.

'You know,' he started, 'when I pulled the stupid stunt with Tristan at the restaurant...'

She groaned, burying her face in his chest again. He smiled, thankful they were at a point where they could refer to that incident with a sense of humor.

'I was genuinely bugged by that thought.'

She drew back to be able to see his face, her brows furrowing.

'What thought?'

'What's the difference? If you had to choose between Dugray and me, why choose me?'

'Jess, that's...'

'Insane, I know,' he nodded with a bitter smile. 'But it felt like a legitimate question at the time. Both of us the hunky as hell badass surgeons,' he started, winning a smile from her, 'both obviously caring about you. If you could fall for the reformed bad boy once, why not fall for him again?'

She rolled her eyes, his logic a strange combination of absurd and funny.

'And the truth is,' he continued, his voice calm and steady, 'I can't enlist the reasons why I'm the right guy for you. I just know that I am.'

'Modesty could top that list,' she chuckled.

'What I mean is,' he shrugged, 'if you really believe that I'm your person, how can you not believe that you're mine?'

'Did you just use a _Grey's Anatomy_ reference?'

'So not my point.'

'So what? We're each other's lobster?'

'This conversation is getting better by the minute.'

'Am I freaking you out?' she asked.

'No.'

'You sure?'

'I'm sure.'

'Even with the way I suggested you're about to want kids with me and I won't be able to provide?'

A small bittersweet smile played over his lips.

'Rory,' he said calmly, slowly. 'I molested you at the news that my mother had died.'

She winced at the reference but he continued, his tone leveled and purposeful.

'Then I bailed without a word and what did you do?'

He paused and she saw the sincerity in his eyes.

'You found me and taught me to heal.'

Plump tears were falling off her eyes, rolling down her cheeks to her chin.

'You taught me hope.'

She smiled a wobbly smile, wiping her eyes. He returned her smile, continuing.

'And love. And patience. You were with me through some of my worst and every time I thought there was no way, we found one together.'

Rory was shaking, her eyes crying and her mouth smiling, her emotions all over the place. Jess drew her into a hug, rocking her against his shoulder.

'I'm not going anywhere, Gilmore,' he said with his lips against her ear. 'You taught me how.'

* * *

 **TBC**


	18. Chapter 18

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine._

 **A/N: Hey, fellas! Thank you for your continuous interest in this story, for your reviews and support! Special thanks to nousedenyingit for joining me on this ride every step of the way :) Your reviews make my day, thank you for being out there!  
**

* * *

Paris entered the break room and hung up her phone, slipping it back into the pocket of her scrubs.

Jess looked up from his place on the sofa. He watched with a deepening frown as she paced to and fro, probably not acknowledging his presence. She didn't speak, didn't look around, only shook her head disbelievingly at some heated argument she seemed to be having in her head.

'Hey yourself, Paris,' he greeted with some exaggerated liveliness.

Nothing.

He put the book he'd been reading down on the coffee table, leaning both arms on his knees.

'Paris.'

She stopped and looked at him.

'Should I pretend I'm not in the room?'

She blinked a couple of times. Jess waited patiently as she registered his words.

'Nanny's sick,' Paris uttered and at the sound of her own words stiffened, giving Jess a stung look. 'Nanny's very sick and I'm arranging for her to be transferred here.'

Then she shook her head and stormed out of the room.

* * *

'How about this,' Jess gave Rory a conspiratorial smile above his bowl of spaghetti. 'We go over to Stars Hollow for Christmas Eve, stay over for the night and come back on the second day of Christmas.'

'Uh-huh,' Rory wagged her finger no and sipped on her coffee. 'You're not bailing out of the Christmas Cookie Festival. Taylor will be devastated, you just started getting along so well.'

'The man is insane,' Jess groaned. 'He goes around indulging people he's just met on his BPH.'

'That's because you're a doctor. People feel impelled to share disturbing medical details with you.'

Jess made a face.

'But you should give our selectman Doose more credit. He also has other fascinating topics he likes to discuss,' Rory pointed out, making an effort to keep a straight face.

'Like?'

'Like the dissolution of the USSR. He's a big fan of Gorbachev,' she explained.

'Jeez,' Jess shook his head, leaning back into his chair. 'Look, if I have to spend another couple of days into this freaky town, that puts you deeply, and I mean deeply in my debt.'

'Oh man,' Rory's smile turned playful as she rubbed her chin in fake wonder. 'How am I to repay you?'

'A various bunch of exotic sexual favors will do,' Jess shrugged.

'Let's shake our hands,' she grinned triumphantly, knowing she'd won this one.

'Did you see the CT scan of the Portuguese woman in sixth?' Tristan appeared before them, putting his lunch tray down on their table.

'Tristan,' Rory greeted, amused by his intrusion.

'Hey Rors,' Tristan gave her a friendly wink, then turned towards Jess, giving him an emphatic acknowledging nod. 'Troll.'

'Douche,' Jess gave him a beaming smile right before sticking a spoonful of spaghetti into his mouth.

Tristan started on his own fish and fries, his cheerful expression unwavering.

'So,' he looked at both of them questioningly, 'did you see it? The tumor takes up a quarter of her right hemisphere.'

'Wait,' Rory paused. 'Did you say the woman is Portuguese?'

'Yeah. Just got transferred. Why?'

Rory and Jess exchanged looks, then uttered almost simultaneously.

'Nanny.'

Tristan was left alone as both of them stood up and rushed towards the exit of the cafeteria.

Love did strange things to people, he concluded after giving it a minute's thought. Then got back to his lunch.

* * *

'You need the _Batman_ of neurosurgery for this,' Paris shook her head apprehensively.

The four of them were in the corridor leading to Exam Room 6. Nanny's room. While Paris was pacing to and fro trying to calm her nerves, the other three were leaning against the wall.

It took Tristan some catching up ( _'Nanny who?' 'I didn't know Josh's nanny was Portuguese.' 'Oh... so Paris has a nanny too. Isn't she like I dunno, too much of an adult to have a nanny?' 'What do you mean I'm so blonde?'_ ) but eventually he got around the major facts. Paris' childhood nanny had been suffering some severe headache for a couple of months when dizziness and ataxia added until one day abbout a week ago, she got a convulsive seizure and lost consciousness. She was currently in a drug-induced coma to make recurring seizures less likely. The CT scan had showed a massive tumor mass in her right hemisphere and taking it out was like playing Russian roulette with very scarce chance of survival.

Paris wanted the tumor out, she'd made that clear. The other three reluctantly agreed that Nanny's only chance was to be operated on. The tumor was big, though. You needed some hell of a surgeon for such a venture. That's how they found themselves in the corridor leading to Nanny's room, trying to brainstorm. They needed a neurosurgeon and they needed one soon.

'If the procedure's a success, this is _the_ shortcut to surgical heaven,' Rory reasoned.

'You know someone who'll do it?' Paris asked hopefully.

'No.' Rory bit her lip. 'Sorry.'

'I'll try and talk to the Chief again,' Jess said. 'Maybe he'll think of someone.'

Everyone turned towards Tristan who was leaning against the wall with both hands stuck deep in his scrubs pockets. As he felt everyone's eyes on him, he arched a brow questioningly.

'It's your turn', Rory nudged him. 'Say something encouraging.'

'I...' Tristan scratched the side of his head. 'I may know someone.'

Paris' eyes narrowed on him. With the intensity she was scrutinizing him, she could sense infrared.

'Someone?' she asked curtly.

He shrugged.

'Yeah.'

'Who?'

He looked up at the ceiling as if he were asking whether to bother at all but then let out a defeated sigh.

'Shefield.'

' _Shefield_?!.'

Paris' eyes expressed some genuine shock and relief at the same time. Even Jess seemed impressed. Both stared at Tristan as if he'd just announced he were buddies with Chuck Norris.

'Sorry to ruin the mood,' Rory joined in, 'but who is Shefield?'

'Beatrice Shefield,' Paris explained.

Rory still seemed clueless.

'Should it ring a bell?'

'She's the _Catwoman_ of neurosurgery,' Jess explained, eyeing Tristan suspiciously. 'Works mainly overseas.'

'She's a little weird but takes on difficult procedures,' Tristan shrugged, putting his hands back into his scrubs pockets.

'Wear her underwear on her head kind of weird?' Paris folded her arms before her chest, leaning towards Tristan in what was probably her full-blown _all cop_ mode.

Tristan's brows arched up.

'No.'

'Enjoys killing cute little bunnies kind of weird?'

'Ehm, no.'

'Talks dirty in her sleep kind of weird?'

'No.'

'How would he know?' Rory chuckled. Nobody else smiled. All eyes were back on Tristan.

He didn't respond. Rory studied his face for a moment.

'Oh. You do know.'

Tristan shrugged.

'Whoa.' Rory shook her head in disbelief.

Paris set her mouth to the side, as if considering it.

'She's like forty-something.'

Tristan gave her a look that said, _your point being?_

'You're right. Who am I to judge people for their affairs with elder professionals?' referring to her relationship with Professor Flemming.

Tristan laced his hands behind his neck, letting his head hang forward with a sigh.

'Time has passed, it's over. She's kinda brilliant, you should check her out. I mean, surgically,' he rubbed nape, 'You got me.'

Paris nodded absently, her mind already working on full speed.

'I'll scan Nanny's papers and send them so you can forward them to Shefield. You have her mail, right?'

Tristan opened his mouth to speak but Paris didn't let him. She turned abruptly to look him square in the eyes which made him take a step back. She spoke, her voice full of genuine wonder.

'I never imagined I would be grateful for your aspiration to sleep with every female in the universe...' She paused, bringing a hand up to squeeze his arm affectionately. 'Thank you.'

Tristan was rendered speechless as Paris nodded a couple of times, as if having a hard time believing that herself.

Then she turned towards Rory, determination flashing in her eyes.

'Rory, you're coming to help me with the papers. We have to work out the details and do this quickly. The guys can check up her whereabouts and reserve her flight.'

Rory gave Jess and Tristan an apologetic smile and followed Paris, leaving both men in the corridor.

Jess turned towards Tristan.

'She hates your guts, doesn't she?'

Tristan sobered up.

'What?'

'Shefield. The 'it's over' part - wasn't a win-win deal for her, was it?'

Tristan's look darkened.

'Do me a favor,' he sneered, 'mind your own business and I'll mind mine.'

He pushed past Jess and stormed off.

Jess watched after him with a frown.

* * *

'She'll do the surgery.' Paris said, relief rearranging her stiff features.

'There is one condition though. She wants Tristan to be her assisting surgeon.'

Rory and Jess exchanged looks.

'Where is our Loverboy?' Paris looked around.

'Over there,' Jess tilted his head in Tristan's direction. He was leaning against the vending machine at the other end of the corridor, texting on his phone. 'Does the guy have muscular dystrophy or something?' Jess asked. 'He's constantly leaning against something.'

Both Paris and Rory's looks turned to Tristan, ogling him for a good while before returning their attention back to Jess.

'No.'

'Nope.'

'All muscles seem intact.'

'Pretty much.'

'Maybe even an eight pack.'

'Oh yeah.'

Jess rolled his eyes.

'Whatever. What did Shefield say?'

Paris shrugged.

'She asked why he wasn't calling her personally.'

Jess crossed his arms before his chest.

'Sounds like a legitimate question.'

'Maybe he deserves to be cut some slack,' Paris sighed. 'After all, I'm gonna ask him to prostitute himself into surgery, and she did sound like a maneater.'

'You can't force the willing.'

'Guys,' Rory sighed, 'I think that's enough. How did Tristan end up the bad guy here? He's been nothing but helpful.'

'What goes around comes around,' Jess shrugged.

'Well done, Justin,' Paris fist bumped Jess' shoulder. 'Sorry,' she shrugged, 'I tend to be wicked when I'm stressed out.'

'You finished discussing me or should I take a walk?' Tristan appeared next to them, putting his mobile in his scrubs pocket.

'I talked to her,' Paris started, looking slightly guilty, 'she wants...'

'Wants me to be her assisting surgeon,' Tristan finished impassively.

'How do you...'

He gave her an ' _oh please_ ' look. After all, he knew the woman. It seemed.

'When is she flying in?'

'Thursday.'

He nodded and turned to go.

...

Since when had they become freaking moral police? Dammit, he needed to cool off. He went for the fire escape stairs and started climbing, then running, welcoming the physical exertion. He'd ran up and down the stairs a couple of times before he felt the tension in his muscles finally subside. He'd learned to deal with emotional stress through physical exercise back in Military school and this habit had helped him on a vast number of occasions.

He climbed on the rooftop terrace and sat facing the helipad. As far as gossip went, the rooftop terrace was the designated place to vent. So here he was.

'Hey,' he heard a voice behind him.

He turned to find Rory stepping out onto the terrace. She stopped a couple of feet away, trying not to intrude.

'I ehm...' she tucked a strand behind her ear, 'I wanted to apologize for their... our behavior back there. We... didn't have the right to discuss you like this.'

She stepped from foot to foot awkwardly, his blank expression not helping her.

'It's gonna sound lame but we mean good. I mean, we are pretty mean sometimes, when we discuss other people but...'

Other people? Meaning people outside their little friendly bubble where high standards and virtue ruled. Where ordinary mortals like, say, former high-school playboy Tristan Dugray, were not allowed. Tristan felt his muscles tense again. He needed another round of climbing stairs to feel them relax. Interesting, he laughed at himself, usually he wasn't bothered by people presuming stuff about him. He was a rather easy-going guy, trying to slide along the surface of things so that he didn't engage in unnecessary drama, trying to keep it light. But something about the last couple of weeks had touched a nerve. He was easy-going. He wasn't naive. His business was his business and no one was welcome to label him or his habits.

'We're grateful for what you're doing to help Nanny. Really. Although I guess there are more graceful ways to get that through than being - well...' she bit on her lip, 'by being basically mean.'

He arched an eyebrow. Rory's lips moved into a helpless smile.

'And sarcastic...' she shrugged, giving him puppy eyes. That blue made teachers believe good kids actually existed. It could get her out of detention. It could make someone forget why they wanted her in detention in the first place.

'You're right,' he sighed. 'It does sound lame.'

'Tris, I'm really sorry we tried to fit you into the stereotype,' she moved from foot to foot. 'You came and tried to act friendly and look what you got in return.'

They stood silent for a while. He didn't motion for her to sit. She didn't ask to either.

He watched as Monday afternoon traffic got heavy and cars almost slowed down to a halt in the distance. The air was crisp and he felt it cool his bare arms. Keep calm and scrub in. Keep calm and scrub out. Keep it fleeting and avoid unnecessary drama. That's who he was. He felt himself calm down.

The three of them were childish, he decided. Mean the way kids are, pointing a finger at the new kid. Maybe they would let him into their small and divine circle. Maybe they wouldn't. He wasn't about to delve into detail about it.

'I could've given a more friendly vibe,' he shrugged. 'After all, I've been known to try and shamelessly hit on you in front of your boyfriend,' he pointed out with a smirk, the sulk in his eyes lighting up a bit.

'You did?' she feigned disbelief.

He shrugged, his smile blooming into a grin.

'Once or twice. It was more for the sport of driving your grumpy old man mad. Believe me or not, I was curious what kind of guy you ended up with.'

Rory smiled. She believed him.

'And how did you find him?'

'Annoying. Nonobjective. Overly protective.' He thought for a moment and shrugged. 'He seems in love.'

'He is. We are.'

'Spare me the details so I don't have to scrub my brain off afterwards, okay?'

She nodded.

'Okay.' After a moment, she added, 'You're a good guy, Tristan.'

She said the last words softly, as if she was sharing a secret.

'I didn't break her heart,' he said then. 'Back in Turkey Bea and I had something going on but I never gave her a wrong impression of what my life entitled. She hoped I could trim my life to fit hers and when that didn't happen she decided to move on. It was her choice, although I was more than okay with it.'

'Tris, you don't have to...'

'I know,' he smiled. 'I want to. You're probably the only person around here who believes I'm not the stereotypical selfish prick. I want you to know that I am a pretty decent guy and I'm aware of it.'

They stood for a moment sharing a friendly silence, then Rory stood up.

'I'll get back inside.'

'Tell _Lurch_ I said hi.'

She shook her head, suppressing a chuckle.

* * *

Paris was pacing the floor in front of the surgery room.

Mere meters away Nanny had her calvaria removed so that she could have a large tumor mass dissected from her brain.

Paris' pace quickened. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them, but before her eyes was not a corridor in a hospital. There was grass. And sun. And people. She was outside, it was summer and she was graduating. Nanny and her children were clapping their hands, cheering her on as Paris received her diploma.

The clapping of hands and the cheers melted into banging over a closed window. _Nanny. Nanny..._ Paris was three years old, she was banging her palms against the window as Nanny was walking out the front door and down their lawn. Paris felt the tears well up her eyes. _Nanny, don't go! I'm sorry! Nanny..._ They'd had a fight and Paris had told Nanny she didn't want her to be her nanny anymore. Three-year-old Paris had told Nanny she wasn't her mother and she had no right to tell her what she could or couldn't do. Nanny had said _okay, I'm leaving then_. The panic in Paris' infant heart was so powerful, it took over her. If Nanny left her, Paris would be alone, completely and utterly alone because she would have no one. Nanny was the one person who cared about Paris and Paris had made her go. For the three years she'd been into this world, Paris had learned this much. All she had was Nanny. _Nanny!_ she shrieked. Paris' little hands were red, numb with the effort of banging against the windowpane. And then Nanny turned back and her dark, lively, knowing eyes met Paris'. That was the precise moment her _N_ grew into a capital and she was never just some nanny. As the eyes of the three year old toddler and the grown woman met, everything went still. For a moment the world went quiet. Then Nanny came back, with a capital _N_. And Paris never asked her to leave again.

The door of the surgery room opened and someone got out. Paris registered the movement but couldn't quite muster up the courage to come back to the actuality of the situation. Nanny had been recently diagnosed with a brain tumor. She had been into a six hour surgery now. Someone was probably out of the operation theater and standing next to Paris, waiting to give her information. What if Nanny hadn't made it? Paris started backing out. She didn't want to know. She wanted another minute where Nanny was still in her world and had a fair chance for staying there.

She looked up and when Tristan saw the look in her eyes, he took a step closer. His voice was low but clear.

'She made it.'

The relief crashed over Paris. Like a train. Like a downpour. It ran through her and brought her down. She felt someone pull at her arms, trying to hold her up. She blinked. Tristan was crouching next to her, studying her with a concerned smile. She noticed he had a dimple. On his left cheek. She laughed and cried and choked on a laugh and couldn't see him anymore. She felt around the wall behind her back so she could sit down properly and as she did so, her arms went around her knees, her chin propping over them.

'Thank you,' she sobbed, letting out a choked laugh. 'Thank you so much.'

He shifted uncomfortably from his crouching position next to her and stood up.

'I'm gonna get you some water.'

She looked up.

'Tristan?'

'Yeah?'

'Thank you.'

Her eyes were sparkling with tears and relief. He felt a smug grin pull up at the corners of his mouth.

'You're welcome.'

* * *

A couple of hours later Paris was sitting in the common waiting area where Tristan was giving information to Nanny's family. Paris was sipping on her fourth bottle of water, lost to the outside world. Water was good. Drinking water made people calm. Her cortisol levels were off the roof and rehydration helped balance her stress hormones back to normal. She continued to sip. She heard someone call Paris. That was her. Someone was calling her name. She looked up.

'Paris?'

'Yeah?'

She studied his concerned look and it set off a dozen alarms in her. She stood up, meeting his concerned gaze. He was one of Nanny's surgeons. Tall. Blond. Oh, she knew him. His name was Tristan. God, she needed some sleep.

'What is it?'

Tristan's look was steady and a little grim when he said,

'She woke.'

'She did?'

'She woke but...' he took a breath. 'Paris, she doesn't remember anything.'

Paris frowned.

'Wha-... what?'

'She doesn't remember anything since the time she was a schoolgirl and I don't think it's coming back. Her vitals are stable and most of her peripheral reflexes are...'

Paris took a step back, needing the distance. Tristan's voice blurred along with the surroundings.

You had to expect this, she told herself. She was aware this was one of the risks of such extensive brain surgery. She was aware but she'd been so concerned about Nanny making it out of that surgery room alive that somehow all those side risks had seemed minor, buried at the back of her mind. She'd expected a blow. She'd just not expected it to be this kind of blow.

'I'm sorry,' she heard Tristan's voice. He sounded honest. Maybe he, another kid who came from money and had estranged parents, knew what it felt like to be neglected by your own family. Or maybe he was just trying to be polite.

'Excuse me,' Paris brushed past him, needing to be alone. She started walking blindly, looking for a place where she could gather her thoughts.

All of their memories - gone. Nanny had been the only mother figure in Paris' life. All they had was a bunch of happy, bittersweet memories to serve proof that anyone had ever cared about her, to remind her that there was a time before she became a grown woman with a bunch of responsibilities, before she turned into that workaholic with great ambitions of her own. To remind her she had been a child once and she didn't know so much about so much, yet somehow knew all the important things because she had someone who made her feel loved and that's all that mattered in the end.

They'd shared those memories and now she would be alone in it. It left a giant void in her chest, aching and screaming for attention, asking how this was possible. How one day you got this without realizing it, and then lost it in the sweep of a second and it left you lone and empty.

...

'Ola,' Paris stepped into room six an hour later, taking the seat next to her nanny's bed. 'Eu sou Paris.'

* * *

Robertson spotted her as she passed through the corridor of the ICU and went out to meet her.

'Hey,' he called, 'Geller.'

He caught up with her.

'There is a retroperitoneal hematoma drainage in fourth in about an hour and I could use an assisting surgeon if you're not onto something else.'

Paris paused and smiled a grim smile.

'Thanks, Chief but I'm heading home.'

He looked at her as if she'd suddenly grown a second head.

'Sorry?' he asked, sure he hadn't heard her right.

Her smile grew genuine.

'My son has been at home with his nanny for twelve hours, hoping I might show up at some point. I'm gonna surprise him and actually show up.'

She patted Robertson's arm and passed him by, dialling for a cab.

* * *

Tristan Dugray pulled his Audi A3 in front of the Private School building, leaning to open the backseat door. The seven-year old boy hopped into the backseat, waving his hand at the elderly lady who was standing at the School's entrance and she waved back. Tristan gave her a nod.

'Hey tiger,' Tristan looked in the rear view mirror. His look met the boy's amber eyes and they reflected his wide grin.

'Hey dad.'

* * *

 **TBC**


	19. Chapter 19

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine._

* * *

'I have a teen couple caught in compromising position back in 4th,' Tristan said, casting Jess a sideways glance. Jess continued examining the patient's viscera with a concentrated scowl. Tristan held the patient's small intestine back with the retractor so that the pancreas was accessible for further examination.

'In case you're wondering, they were doing the nasty,' Tristan explained helpfully.

'All doubts cleared up,' Jess mumbled absently as he leaned so that he could have a look at the common bile duct.

'Let me just dissect that portion of lesser omentum,' Paris said as she started working from her place opposite Jess. 'Okay, I'm good.'

'Rory, do we have a sac for plasma transfusion?' Jess asked.

'Ready when you are,' she nodded as she checked the patient's vitals.

'They're still very much... connected, if you get what I mean,' Tristan went on.

'Poor guy,' Rory shook her head.

'Yep. It's such a shame priapism happens before the guy comes.'

'I can only imagine the grief,' Paris said dryly while putting wet gauze over the dissected portion of the omentum. 'So you left priapism guy hanging, so that you can scrub in for a choledochojejunostomy?' she arched an eyebrow doubtfully.

'What can I say, I'm a sucker for Whipple procedure and...' he paused to listen to the music that was playing, 'random boring opera music.'

'That's Maria Callas.'

'Right.'

'If I ever got the luxury of getting some sleep, my nightmares would involve dubstep,' Paris said as she inspected the vessel clamp in her hand. After a moment's thought, she added, 'And Nick Jonas with his shirt on.'

Meeting Tristan and Jess' incredulous looks, she explained,

'Shirtless Nick gets some redeeming red points.'

Tristan moved the retractor to the side so that the operative field was clear and she could dissect the rest of the omentum.

'Priapism guy had some coke before he enticed into more delectable Biblical activities and I'm still waiting for the crack aftereffects to wash off,' he went on with his story.

'Humanity is such a lost cause,' Paris sighed, concentrating on the portal vein. 'Gauze sponge,' she demanded and the scrub nurse handed her one. 'Cauter.'

'I have a total hysterectomy in fifth afterwards,' Jess said as he clamped the gallbladder. 'Atkinson called in sick. Anyone who wants to scrub in with me? And by anyone I mean Paris.'

'If I'm free why not,' Paris nodded.

'If she's not too busy watching me cure a 32 week foetus from its supraventricular tachycardia,' Tristan said smugly.

Immediately all looks were aimed at him.

'Show-off,' Paris muttered indignantly. 'Jess, help me dissect the head of the pancreas.'

'I'm gonna inject flecainide into the umbilical cord,' Tristan sing-songed. 'How cool is this?'

'How come Hudson decided to call you in on this one?' Paris asked. 'You've never been interested in Ob-Gyn. Although you do seem deeply invested in devouring the female reproductive system.'

'Can't help I'm so inhumanly awesome. Women wanna get close to all that godliness.' Tristan flashed her a smile.

Paris paused, seemingly considering something.

'You think I may try with food and coffee?' she asked then. 'Food and coffee are social lubricants, so I can try to mingle with our attendants and maybe I'll get assigned with more interesting procedures.'

'You know an even better lubricant?' Tristan asked.

'You just voiced that,' Paris winced.

'Do you ever use your brain to filter what you say?' Jess sighed wryly. 'Wet gauze,' he lifted his hand, palm up. The scrub nurse put wet gauze into his hand.

'One word,' Tristan whispered conspiratorially, 'Intra-umbilical.'

'One word,' Rory said, trying to hold back a smirk. 'Discretion.'

Tristan's brows arched questioningly.

'It's an app,' Jess sighed, giving up. 'They didn't have it for your version.'

Tristan tilted his head towards Jess.

'They were probably too busy with all those other apps I have.'

'Have you ever considered doing the human race a favor through celibacy?' Paris asked matter-of-factly.

Tristan gave her an appalled look. As far as he was concerned, he would never even spell the word.

'There was that one week in Med school when I was so crammed I only had occasional phone sex. Does that count?'

'Doctor Dugray?' A nurse appeared at the door.

Tristan answered, his look still fixed on Paris while he was holding the retractor in place.

'Yeah?'

'Emergency call from the ER. Trauma surgeon needed, stat.'

Tristan sighed theatrically, his facial muscles rearranging back into their smug configuration.

'Looks like I'm popular these days. Rory, will you call one of your interns in to fill up the all-consuming void of my absence?'

Rory nodded trying to suppress her smirk, her pager already in her hands.

'Sure.'

'Miss me,' he leaned over the patient, giving Paris a wink and then turning to Jess.

'Woe is us,' Paris sighed absently. Then, remembering, she looked up. 'Wait, who is gonna inject antiarrhythmics into the umbilical cord?'

'Who knows, Geller,' Tristan smirked slyly, 'maybe you are. Maybe Santa has that hotshot surgical Christmas present for you and you only. You just have to be a little nicer to your colleagues.'

'Are you messing with me, Tristan? Because you don't wanna do this.'

He flashed her a smile and left the retractor into Jess' hands.

'Ladies,' he gave Rory and Paris a theatrical bow. Then turned to give Jess a nod. 'Gru.'

'What's he up to?' Jess asked, his eyes tracing Tristan as he left the surgery room.

'I don't know,' Rory tapped her chin thoughtfully, 'I think he's trying to be friendly.'

'You call that friendly?' Jess asked.

'In his own, teasing way... Yeah, I think Tristan is trying.'

* * *

He saw Paris waiting in the corridor that led to his patient's room.

'You waiting for something?' he smirked as he approached her.

'Your forever-lasting boyhood to retaliate?' she put it like a question.

'Call me crazy but I sense tension,' Tristan smirked, continuing on his way. 'Santa doesn't appreciate it when good girls act mean.'

'What's your game, Tristan? Why suddenly go around playing little Samaritan?' Paris asked, falling in stride with him.

'You're really asking me this when there is an umbilical cord that needs injection? What do I know, miracles do happen at Christmas.'

They reached the patient's room. Paris came to a sudden halt.

'You trying to make a move on Rory?'

Tristan blinked, looking clueless.

'What?.'

'You know, creeping closer to her by gaining her friends' trust and sidestepping me on your way to her. Because I'm not easily sidestepped.'

'I've noticed.' He sighed, raking a hand through his short blond hair, suddenly looking more mature and tired. 'Look, Paris. I don't know what kind of evil spawn you think I am, but I'm not dead set on nailing your best friend, so can you stop being petty so we can move on to the umbilical cord now?'

She gave him her best scrutinizing look. He didn't flinch.

'You're right, it doesn't matter. Bring on the needle,' she said, walking into the room.

'That's what I thought,' he nodded to no one in particular as he followed her inside.

* * *

'What is it?' Rory asked one of her interns as she approached the patient's room. She'd been paged code blue and came immediately.

'Fifty-two year old man, admitted this morning with nausea, vomiting and fatigue. Labs were borderline positive for infection and the chest X-ray just came in with pneumonia. We were about to start allergy scratch testing when he started crashing.'

Rory went inside the patient's room where the monitor alarms were beeping and the patient was seizing. Nurses were running around, carrying syringes.

Rory looked at his vitals and took his chart.

'What have you applied so far?'

'Diazepam, two grams.'

'Start a second Diazepam and prepare Phenytoine.'

Rory checked the patient's vitals again as the nurse applied the injection.

'Okay,' Rory nodded, 'get the Phenytoine.'

In a couple of seconds the seizing stopped and the alarms stopped beeping. Rory sighed with relief.

'Okay, good job everyone.'

She looked at the patient again, taking notice of his clothes.

'He's a priest?' she asked.

The intern nodded.

'Yeah.'

'Get me his labs and test results. Let's find out why father Robinson is crashing.'

* * *

'How is your preacher man doing?'

Rory groaned. They were in the cafeteria grabbing something to eat. She bit on a croissant.

'He asked me if I wanted to confine in him.'

'See?' Paris shrugged, chewing on a slice of dried papaya, 'he's not that ill if he's advertising.'

'This would be something,' Tristan smirked. ' _The Confessions of a Mary_.'

'Yuk,' Rory made a face. 'You make it sound like porn.'

Tristan grinned over his cappuccino.

'Exactly.'

Jess threw him a deadly look.

'Maybe it's a sign,' Rory said thoughtfully. 'Maybe illness is sent to us so that we can seek redemption for our sins.'

'Hallelujah.'

'What about four-year-olds and leukemia?' Paris asked. 'What sins do they have to pay for? That's crap.'

'I'm waiting for the HIV results to come in,' Rory sighed.

'And what sin does father Robinson have to amend for?'

'Did you test his wife?'

'Doesn't have a wife. Nor a partner.' Rory shook her head thoughtfully. 'Father Robinson considers having sex a sin.'

'If you're bad at it, it is,' Tristan cut in seriously.

'Says the vagina-whisperer,' Paris rolled her eyes.

'He insists he never had sex,' Rory continued.

'Never?' Jess asked.

'Never.'

'Not even...'

Rory cut in before Tristan could continue.

'Not even engaged in an intercourse whatsoever.'

'Wow,' Paris shook her head, impressed.

'He never had blood transfusion, no blood manipulations, no surgeries.'

'Dental?' Paris asked.

'A couple of minor dentist procedures but I don't think we're gonna find anything there.'

'You actually believe him?' Jess asked and took a bite from his toast.

'Why not?' Rory shrugged. 'What use lying to me? I'm his doctor, not his confessor.'

'Exactly.'

'Maybe we're superficial,' Rory reasoned. 'Maybe sex isn't that crucial.'

'Man,' Tristan patted Jess' shoulder, 'you've gotta work on that. If you need some assistance...'

Jess shrugged him off.

Rory's head snapped up.

'Oh, no. I mean...' she blushed intensely. 'I didn't mean it like that. Sex with Jess is amazing. It could make an atheist believe God exists.'

'Why thanks,' Jess muttered.

'I meant that maybe one can express themselves in more ways than one. Just because we don't understand father Robinson doesn't mean he hasn't found his own way.'

'It's simple,' Paris shrugged. 'He's lying.'

* * *

'My colleagues think you're lying,' Rory said as she checked father Robinson's chart.

'Do they?' he smiled. 'What about you? You think I'm a liar, too?

'I haven't found particular reasons not to believe you,' she shrugged and moved on to dress the fresh wounds that had appeared over the skin of his limbs. He watched her patiently, every now and then wincing when the wound was deeper and hurt. When she was done, he moved into a sitting position. It cost him quite some effort. The pneumonia wasn't responding to the treatment and he was weak and feverish. The skin lesions appeared the day before and were progressing rapidly.

'You don't,' father Robinson noted calmly. There was no venom in his voice, only simple observation. 'You don't believe me, otherwise you wouldn't adopt the HIV diagnosis as most probable. You believe I got AIDS, you just can't figure out how to get it out of me where from.'

Rory looked up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

'I'm a doctor, father Robinson,' she smiled tiredly. 'I believe in what I see. I'm trying to find the most logical explanation about your immunocompromised state.'

'You believe in God, doctor Gilmore?' he asked.

'I think the more important question is, do you?'

Father Robinson gave her an appreciative look and smiled again.

'I didn't lie to you, doctor. I hope you find out what's wrong with me, but if you don't I'll accept God's will.'

'So if I fail to diagnose you, it's God's will?' Rory asked, taking his chart to fill in.

'What else?'

'And the reason you're in pain?' she probed. 'Is that God's will too?'

'Yeah.'

'But you've been faithful to God, how is it fair to be paid back like that?'

'Ah,' the man rose a forefinger, 'You see, that's where most people misinterpret God's will. Faith isn't about calculating what you expect as repay for your good behavior. If hardships happen, people say it's time to pay the piper. People don't want to believe, they want to bargain. What do you believe in, doctor?'

Rory shrugged, finishing his chart with a tap of her pen.

'Truth, I guess. Proof.'

She put the chart back by his monitor.

'Where there is faith, there is truth,' the man insisted. 'You need no proof for it.'

'For a priest, this must be working. For a doctor, not so much.'

Father Robinson turned to look at her.

'I hope you forgive God for what you blame him for. Vengeance is a bad thing to carry around.'

Rory stilled for a moment. Then gave father Robinson a stiff nod.

'See you, Father.'

And left the room, willing the chills down her spine to go away.

* * *

 **TBC**


	20. Chapter 20

_Disclaimer : I disclaim everything, etc._

 ** _A/N: Hey there, I've been trying to update sooner this time :) This chapter is closely related to the previous one and I'm hoping you'll enjoy how this story is evolving. I'm curious to know what you think of the current turn of events, leave a word whenever you feel like it :)_**

* * *

Rory stopped mid-step to assess the sight. Her brows arched.

She coughed, clearing her throat.

'Tristan?'

The tall man in the red costume turned back from his position onto the receptionist desk.

'Oh hey, Mare.'

'What are you doing up there?'

'Creating a festive atmosphere, what else?' he grinned, going back to hanging mistletoe off the ceiling. 'Here is to all the good girls in St Morrison's,' he added with a wink at the receptionist who was all but pooling with drool watching him.

'You're aware you're dressed up like a Santa, right?'

'Yeah. The Chief wasn't ecstatic about it but when I told him I'd be filling in for Alinski in the kids ER, he gave in. What about you, Rory,' Tristan wiggled his brows suggestively, 'have you been a good girl?'

'Yuk,' Rory made a step back, giving up. 'See you around, fat old man,' she waved her hand in mock salute as she continued on her way towards father Robinson's room.

'Ho-ho,' came Tristan's cheerful reply behind her.

* * *

'I'm getting worse, aren't I?' father Robinson asked.

Rory glanced at his labs and nodded.

'I'm afraid so.'

'That's all right,' the man smiled understandingly. 'I know you're doing all that you can. Some things aren't in your power anyway.'

'That's what people usually say to make someone feel better about failing,' she pointed out.

'What use placing blame, doctor?' father Robinson asked. 'You're failing to save me, I'm failing to respond to the treatment. That's a lot of blame and resentment for things that aren't up to us. Acceptance cures us from needing to place blame, don't you think?'

Rory had raised a skeptical brow as she listened to him.

'I see,' father Robinson smiled. 'However, I have something to ask from you doctor.'

He opened his mouth to speak but started coughing instead. When he could speak again, he wiped his watery eyes and gave Rory a nod.

'Can you get me some ice-cream?' he asked. 'I know it's childish and maybe a little vain, but it's a small pleasure I think I'll really miss once this,' he gestured towards the hospital bed and the iv lines attached to his forearm, 'is all over.'

'Father Robinson,' Rory sighed, 'I'm afraid ice-cream isn't the best treat for a person with uncontrollable pulmonary infection that likely also affects his skin and brain.'

'Yeah, I guess it isn't,' the man shrugged weakly. 'But I hope you'll do it anyway.'

She started to leave but at the door she turned back.

'How can you be so calm?' she asked, the question nagging her brain for days now. 'Don't you feel helpless and...' she looked for a word, 'ditched?'

'Of course I do, doctor,' father Robinson smiled wryly. 'I'm human and I feel all those emotions of unmet expectations. Every once in a while I also feel lost and confused, but I find my way to God. I believe the Lord has mercy for those who lose their way and find it back, 'cause we are all prodigal sons and daughters.'

'Mercy, huh?' Rory asked, biting her lip thoughtfully.

'More than we have for ourselves,' father Robinson nodded. 'If you decide to talk, I'll be right here. It's not as if I have anywhere else to be anyway,' he added with a raspy chuckle.

* * *

'Trixie Stevens, six-year old girl with multiple trauma,' Helen told Tristan, her eyes still on the kid's chart. 'Most probable cause domestic violence. Social services are over there in 3rd, talking to the father. Sweet Jesus,' she said as she registered Tristan's outfit. 'What is that you're wearing?'

Tristan didn't reply, already on his way to the girl's bed. There was no trace of the festive _Ho-ho_ act. When he saw the cuts and bruises over the kid's limbs and face, he stilled for a moment. Then the girl looked up at him and her teary chocolate eyes lit up.

'Are you Santa?' she asked, the timidness in her voice battling with excitement.

Tristan's lips moved into a generous grin, his expression showing no traces of the notion that had just passed through him at the sight of the battered girl.

He looked around and leaned towards her.

'I'm not, love,' he told her conspiratorially, 'But Santa did send me. I'm his most trusted elf and I'm here undercover as a doctor. You see, there are all those good kids who need to be in the hospital for Christmas Eve and we can't leave them without their Christmas presents, can we?'

The girl shook her head enthusiastically.

'That's why Santa sent me here, so he can make sure no good kid misses their present. Will you help me and keep my secret, Trixie?'

The girl was all but trembling with anticipation, the tears already drying over her cheeks.

'Yes,' she said gingerly. 'Yes, I will.'

'I knew it. You are a very good girl, Trixie.'

* * *

'Where is the father?' Tristan asked Helen when he finished dressing Trixie's wounds.

'I think he's still in 3rd,' Helen motioned towards the next exam room. 'Social services must be finishing there.'

Before she could ask him why he wanted to know, Tristan started towards 3rd.

'Hey there, Mr Stevens,' Tristan greeted the man with a tight smile as he entered the room. 'I'm Dr Dugray, I just finished dressing your daughter's wounds.'

Mr Stevens looked up from his fumbling hands. He was about Tristan's age, but half his build. Short and skinny, he had dark circles around his eyes and it seemed he hadn't had a good night's sleep for a while. Mr Stevens wasn't much of a sleeper it seemed. Neither was he much of an eater. Or half a decent human being, for that matter.

'Ehm, hello,' the man answered tentatively, something in Tristan's appearance raising his alarm. 'Are you supposed to come here? The social worker just went out to bring some paperwork. There has been some misunderstanding.'

The man's eyes darted towards the door of the exam room, as if he were pondering an escape route.

Tristan shrugged, his expression darkening even more.

He lowered his head so that he could whisper between his teeth,

'The first time you hit her, was it everything you thought it would be?'

The man's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and anger. Tristan's eyes were the color of a dark stormy sky.

* * *

'He wasn't himself,' Helen explained.

They were in the break room. Paris and Rory were sitting on the sofa listening to Helen's vivid version of the story of the day.

'He went all Jackie Chan on him. Imagine Tristan, with his whole Hercules slash Adonis build, pouncing over that scrawny guy and throwing and throwing punches at him.'

Helen's words were accompanied by vigorous gestures with her fists.

'The poor fellow was completely helpless. Anderson tried to take Tristan by the shoulders but was thrown back. I tell you, if he were to enlist in some WWE show, I would totally pay to watch him fight, Santa costume or not. They were caught in a knot by the time Security arrived, wrapped in sparkly decoration and mistletoe after crashing over a Christmas tree in the corridor. I think some colleagues took their phones out in order to shoot but I doubt they could catch a lot because Security arrived soon enough. It took three men to be able to move Tristan away. In all his womanizing masculine glory, he is gorgeous when he's enraged,' Helen sighed dreamily.

'Oh come on,' Rory shook her head, 'Tristan doesn't do enraged.'

'Well,' Helen shrugged, reminiscing the scene. 'Seemed pretty much like he did.'

'You think the guy will press charges?' Paris asked.

'I don't know,' Helen shrugged. 'He looked pretty chickened out. I think Tristan's main concern will be with Chief Robertson now.'

'You think Stevens really did this to his own kid?' Rory frowned.

Helen sighed, thinking on the way Trixie flinched at the mention of her father. The slump of her shoulders, the bruises. The hollow look into her eyes when she denied being bullied by her own father.

'Yeah,' she said. 'I think he did. It's up to Social services to take the matter into their hands now.'

'Poor kid,' Rory sighed. 'Who knows how she's feeling right now.'

Paris chewed on the inside of her cheek. She bet one person knew exactly.

* * *

She went into the on-call room and found him sitting on the floor, his back resting against the foot of the bed. She pondered for a moment whether it was a good idea to come here at all, looking for him instead of minding her own business, but then decided to mirror his position and sit next to him.

He was still in his Santa costume. It was unbuttoned and disheveled, the crumpled ends of his white coat sticking out. His blond hair was a mess and his blue eyes, as far as Paris could grasp, looked a lot like a sea storm.

'The Chief is pissed?' she rather stated than asked. 'I bet he's got fire under his ass,' she smirked. 'Being all uptight and about protocol when it comes to surgical procedures.'

She paused to think for a moment.

'However, deep...' she thought for a another second, ' _deep_ down, he's all right. He enslaved you in Proctology already?'

Tristan slowly turned to give her a look, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. Paris shrugged,

'I broke into our ex-chief's office once.'

Tristan's brow arched slightly.

'It's a long story,' Paris shook her head. 'Anyway, when Robertson had to decide whether to fire my ass or let me stay but pay for overstepping professional ethics, he let me stay. I think he took my motives into consideration. Or something. I'm not sure why he acted like a decent human being. I in his place wouldn't. Anyway, he made it clear that I was one step away from looking for another job. And every day I make sure not to take this step.'

They stood in silence for a while, this time more of the comfortable kind.

'You did well,' Paris said then, looking ahead, her mouth set in an almost imperceptible smile.

When Tristan didn't say anything back, she continued,

'That guy,' she nodded towards the ER, 'He deserved some good trashing.'

Tristan turned to look at her. His eyes were still stormy but flashed with a notion of... something. Maybe it was surprise. Maybe it was respect.

'Since I'm on a roll here, I'm gonna ask directly. You don't have to answer.' Paris took a breath, 'You been abused?'

A muscle over Tristan's jaw twitched. They kept the eyelock, each trying to gauge the other's reaction. Then Tristan answered, breaking eye contact.

'No,' he said, his voice hoarse from the lack of recent use. 'I haven't.' _But someone I love has_ was the unvoiced end of the sentence and Paris read it in the firm set of his jaw, in his strained expression and slightest narrowing of his eyes. Somehow, although unvoiced, it felt like a confession.

She waited for a while, letting the information sink in. Then gave him a slight elbow nudge in the ribs.

'Dugray, I must say I'm impressed. You've actually been a good boy,' she smiled. 'Everyone wants a _Superman_ but walk past a Clark Kent everyday.'

'Some girls want Bruce Wayne and I'm the god damn _Batman_ ,' Tristan said with a grim half smile over his lips.

'You know what?' she asked turning to face him with a mischievous look in her eyes. 'Last thing I saw, they were moving Mister Nastypants back into 3rd to attend to the aftereffects of his accident.'

Tristan's brows furrowed.

'What accident?'

'Haven't you heard?' Paris asked in mock surprise. 'He fell down the stairs from the kid's ER while waiting for his daughter to be examined.'

'The kid's ER doesn't have stairs.'

Paris slapped her forehead.

'Right. He must have had the irresistible urge to smack his head against the doorstep to the kid's ER then. My bad. Anyway, I'll check if I can get to be the one to fix his face. I'll see to it that repositioning his nose hurts as much as possible without getting myself fired.'

She stood up. Tristan remained sitting, hunched forward with his elbows resting over his knees. To her, tonight he seemed ten years older than his usual teenage self. Seemed there was a pinch of brood to Tristan Dugray's sunny boy charm. It strangely completed him, Paris thought.

'You gonna be alright here?' she asked.

He looked up, the corners of his mouth moving upwards.

'Do the Hemsworth brothers look good in swimsuits?'

'Good,' she nodded and made her way to the door. She took the doorknob and paused. 'If anyone asks, I still despise your chauvinistic guts.'

'I'll make sure to mention it,' he smirked.

* * *

'It's cryptococcosis!' Rory stumbled into father Robinson's room.

'Sounds menacing,' father Robinson said with a stoic smile stretching his pale lips.

'It is,' she nodded. 'It's is a wicked little fung, but with the right amount of Amphotericin I think we have a fair chance to stop the infection.'

'I'm not so sure I have a lot of time on my hands,' the man smiled sadly. 'Think my Lord is beckoning me some time soon.'

Rory's head snapped up. Her nostrils flared.

'Really? After all this talk about God's will, now you're going to give up? What about this,' she waved the test results in her hand, 'don't you think it's God's will that I managed to diagnose you before it's too late?'

'Apply your meds, doctor,' the man sighed. 'And make no mistake - I am grateful. But if the treatment doesn't work, I'm still grateful for a life full of peace and compassion.'

'I'll tell you what, Father,' Rory wagged a forefinger, 'survive this and I'm gonna tell you what my deal with God is.'

* * *

There was a jumbo menorah in the corridor by the front door. Inside, the air smelled like baked apples, cinnamon and mulled wine. There was also the smell of something fried (potato? cheese?) but he couldn't pinpoint what.

As they went further inside, Tristan could discern a piano with Christmas lights were twinkling over it. Voices carried over to their right.

'Oh hi,' Paris appeared out of a side room to their left, carrying a tray with potato pancakes. 'Rory is caught up at work and will come when she's finished, but Jess is already here.'

At the mention of Jess, Tristan winced slightly.

'You must be looking forward to the prospect of you two male-bonding over chit-chat.'

As she saw Tristan looking around, she looked around too.

'Is it overdone? I thought maybe people wouldn't want to eat Hannukah food because of its massive atheromatous plaque potential and decided to add mulled wine. It doesn't really match the latkes and I thought maybe it's too much, but then I thought to hell with much, when people drink it's merrier, so I put some mulled spice and... Is this an olive-skinned boy next to you?'

Paris moved her head to the side, then to the other, as if she were expecting to see someone looking for the boy, then leaned down to him.

'Did he kidnap you?' she asked Aiden in a loud whisper, gesturing towards Tristan.

'Paris,' Tristan said, 'meet my son Aiden. Aiden, this is Paris. She's kinda neurotic but she's all right.'

Paris' head snapped up.

' _He_ is your plus one?' she asked, her pointed look shifting between them.

Tristan smiled, his amusement growing.

'Yeah.'

She eyed the boy, then Tristan. Then the boy again. Nope. Didn't ring a bell.

'He doesn't have your dominant features. Genetically, the probability of him being your biological son is less than 0.3%.'

For a moment both Tristan and Aiden looked flustered. Then both burst into laughter. The boy's voice was an octave lower than she'd expect from a boy his age, but it was rich and lucid.

'She's weird,' the boy said. He had a slight accent. A Turkish accent. 'I like her.' He threw a glance to the inside of the apartment. 'Can I go play now?'

Tristan gave him a nod.

'So,' Paris folded her hands before her chest, 'Is this some sort of elaborate prank or is he really your son?'

'Aiden's my son,' he said calmly, seriously, with an air of normalcy that shocked her.

However, her look still conveyed strong suspicion. Tristan looked around.

'Are you going to let me in or are we gonna spend the evening here? Don't get me wrong, I'd love to stand here and stare at you, it's just I'd love to have some food first.'

Paris gestured for him to get in.

* * *

A couple of miles downtown, snow was lazily piling against the windowsills of St Morrison's Hospital.

Doctor Rory Gilmore was sitting by a dying man's bed, holding a bowl of ice-cream and helping him have a bite. Christmas lights were twinkling from the hospital corridor, their on-off flicker coming through the door blinds. The monitor above father Robinson's bed flickered in different colors, indicating they still got time. For a conversation at least.

'My mom had me when she was sixteen,' Rory began. 'You can imagine she had to rearrange her whole life in order to keep me, but she did and it turned out to be the greatest adventure of her life. Having a kid at sixteen, facing life and parenthood so young, she still managed to be the best role model I've ever known, she's been my friend and my parent my whole life.'

Rory sighed, looking out at the piling snow through the window.

'When I was a med school graduate, I made an abortion,' she continued. 'I never told her about it. Felt like a betrayal. When I had a perfect example of how this could work, I didn't want it for myself. I didn't want my life to be defined by becoming a mother. Now I have this wonderful, generous man, someone with whom this could feel right, and he wants a family maybe not today but some day... And I feel like I've already been there, blown it, and I don't have it in me to go there again.'

If she'd managed to keep her distance until now, Rory was openly crying by the time her look met father Robinson's. His hand moved to remove the ice-cream bowl and took gentle hold of Rory's hand.

'What kind of mother chooses herself over her own child?' Rory asked, biting on her lip. 'Tell me, Father, what kind of God lets a woman kill her own child?'

* * *

 **TBC**


	21. Chapter 21

_Disclaimer : I disclaim everything, etc._

* * *

'This is the Stepford Mom, inhumanly housewifey, she's crazy about disinfection and sterilization.' Paris leaned over to whisper into Rory's ear, 'I'm not sure she ever goes to pee. And this over there,' she motioned towards another woman, 'is the Hippie Mom. She's all about going naked in the sand, talking to chirpy birds, eating vegan food that kind of stuff.'

They were sitting on a bench in the kindergarten's yard, waiting for Josh and Paris was briefing Rory on mama code semantics.

'What about her?' Rory pointed towards another mom.

'Shht!' Paris chastised in sharp whisper, swatting Rory's hand down. 'Don't point at her or she'll spot us!'

Paris sat lower on the bench, sagging into the collar of her coat, nudging Rory to do the same.

'That's the Momzilla.'

'The Momzilla.'

'Duh. She's like all the right moms in the world packed in one. She knows the right way to feed your child, the right way to teach him new stuff, the right way to wash his stroller, she has the right protocol for everything. She's like Babypedia, ask her and she'll deliver. God, I hate her.'

'Huh,' Rory suppressed a chuckle, registering the serious expression on Paris' face. 'So what are you then?'

Paris rolled her eyes, her expression turning sulky.

'Come on, what's your moniker?'

'Med Bot,' Paris sighed.

'What?'

'I've heard them call me that behind my back when I'm leaving with Josh. They hate me.'

'Oh come on, they don't _hate_ you,' Rory rolled her eyes.

'They do,' Paris insisted.

At that moment one of the moms at the opposite end of the yard spotted Paris and waved, a fake smile stretching her lips. Then she leaned and whispered something to another mom who also looked in their direction and waved, same plastic smile on her lips. Paris smiled back tightly, waving back.

'See?' Paris asked between her tight pursed into a smile lips.

'Damn,' Rory shook her head as she watched the whole exchange bewildered, 'Boy, they do hate you.'

'They think I'm a career-obsessed robot with no mother's instinct whatsoever and that's why I can't keep the attention of a man, not even the father of my own child,' Paris delivered mechanically, as if this was some scientific piece of information that wasn't supposed to bother her much. But Rory knew. Paris had been her friend since high school and ever since early childhood, she had some deep-laid insecurities. She could hide them behind her ambition for success and sharp sense of self-irony, but she was a vulnerable woman behind her snarky exterior. Rory had her own observation that ever since becoming a parent, Paris' insecurities made appearance more and more often. She was trying to grow herself into a more mature person while taking care of her kid and being a lady surgeon on a full-time job. It was a lot.

'Paris...' Rory turned to study her friend more closely. 'You know that's not true... right?'

Nothing.

Paris had a peculiar expression, something between a laugh and a scowl, as if she couldn't decide if she were amused or saddened by the thought that the moms from the local equivalent of a country club despised her. Her, the editor of Yale Daily News, acknowledged chronic overachiever and laziness-scarer. Rory felt the indignation inside her build.

'That's bullshit, Paris.'

'Oh, don't I know it,' Paris smiled bitterly.

'It's bullshit and it's not true,' Rory insisted.

Paris let out a frustrated sigh.

'Well, parts of it are.'

'None of it. Hey,' she grabbed Paris' shoulders to make her friend face her, 'Listen to me. You're the epitome of badass lady surgeon, one of the best in your field. You're a kickass mom and Josh adores you. You're a good, honest friend who always stands up for what she believes. And no chick, Momzilla or not is going to tell you who you are by misjudging you from a single look while you're taking your kid from kindergarten after spending another long day at work saving human lives.'

'It's pointless. They hate me.'

'They hate you 'cause they're stupid.'

'I know. They still hate me.'

Rory rested back on the bench and folded her hands before her chest with a huff.

'Remind me, why does that matter?'

'It doesn't. And it does. Gah, it's so frustrating to be a parent,' Paris groaned. 'It's like you're on a giant stage and everybody's watching. And every single person keeps telling you how you could've done it better.'

At that moment a couple of kids went out through the big wooden door of the kindergarten, the teacher following close behind. One of the kids came running towards them, throwing himself into Paris' arms.

'Mommy, mommy, mommy!' Josh shrieked with excitement.

'Hey little pest,' Paris squeezed him tight and ruffled his hair before taking his backpack, her face lighting up. 'How was kindergarten today?'

'We played copz and aliens. Josh was alien,' he started explaining, bringing his arms up into an alien impersonation.

'That's cool,' Paris scruffed his hair. 'Tell me about it.'

She exchanged nods with the kindergarten teacher before she started to leave, Josh and Rory in toe.

'Josh runz and runz and scares other kidz,' Josh continued, starting a semi-circle around them.

As they walked and Josh went on and on about having many hands as an alien and also a long green tongue Rory leaned towards Paris, whispering,

'He's amazing, Paris.'

Paris looked at Josh and sighed,

'He is, isn't he?'

Rory nodded.

'This,' she gestured towards Josh running around them screaming _Josh eats humanz!_ , 'is your biggest proof.'

* * *

'Come on, just once,' Rory pleaded. She had ambushed Jess at the nurse's station while he was doing patient's charts. 'I'm ready to grovel,' she whispered suggestively into his ear.

Jess groaned.

'Rory, that's kinky. I'm feeling kinked out even discussing it.'

'Come on, Jess, that's Paris I'm talking about,' Rory insisted.

'Excuse me,' Tristan's head appeared between them as he leaned over the nurse's desk. 'I couldn't help but hear your conversation,' he grinned enthusiastically. Then, turning towards Rory, 'Please tell me this is a threesome you were negotiating.'

'Please tell him to fuck off,' Jess told Rory, rolling his eyes at Tristan.

'Dearest Rory, can you tell your prudent boyfriend that regardless his ruthless behavior I'll be happy to suffice?' Tristan said with exaggerated politeness.

'Dugray...' Jess turned to him with a tight smile that communicated a lot of menace.

'Hobbit...' Tristan turned towards him with a helpful expression that communicated he couldn't care less.

'Out of here. Now.'

Tristan's smirk went even wider as he gave Jess a slow nod and leisurely turned to go.

'If you change your mind, you know where to find me... Magdalene,' Tristan gave Rory a wink and retreated towards the surgery rooms.

'See?' Rory bobbed her head towards the place where Tristan had just been. 'If you don't wanna do it, he will.'

Jess rolled his eyes.

'He has no clue what we were talking about.'

'Exactly. Come on, Jess, it's not rocket science. If I were a guy, I'd be more than happy to do it.'

'Well, thank God you aren't,' Jess sighed. 'How do you even know it will work?'

'We'll practise,' Rory said with an air of determination that alarmed Jess even more.

' _Practise_?'

'Hello,' Rory waved a hand before his eyes as if to wake him up, 'did I mention this is Paris we're talking about? We start rehearsing tonight, six o'clock sharp, her place.'

'For the love of God,' Jess sighed, shaking his head helplessly. What was he getting himself into?.

* * *

'Don't forget they'll be watching, so keep it in character. Paris, give me your best enamored look... Oh boy, we need to work on that,' Rory sighed, desperation creeping into her voice. 'Repeat.'

'God, I hate you,' Paris hissed through clenched teeth. Jess was also muttering expletives under his breath.

'You can't hate me,' Rory pointed out, 'I'm redeeming your social status, you owe me.' She folded her arms before her chest expectantly. 'Are you gonna rehearse or what?'

Jess sighed. Then cracked his neck, clenching and unclenching his fists.

'You can do this,' he muttered to himself. Then, after looking at Paris, he deflated a little. 'Oh, whatever.'

After a short pause, he composed his face into a forced smile and went towards Paris, putting a hand on the small of her back. 'Hey sweetie,' he said.

'Oh hey, honey,' Paris replied with an expression that could be best explained as bluffing while looking for a escape route.

'It's not working,' Rory sighed.

'Hallelujah,' Jess groaned. 'What have I been telling you? Let's pretend this plan never existed and go on with our normal monogamous lives.'

'Don't speak of quitting,' Rory's hand was clenched into a fist. 'You just need more rehearsing,' she chirped.

'No shit.'

'Yeah. Houston?' Paris looked up with a pained expression. 'We have a problem.'

* * *

'I don't like this,' Jess muttered as they entered the elevator on their way out of Paris' building. 'I don't like this at all.'

'Oh boy, neither do I,' Rory shook her head, 'If you could see yourself with Paris... You looked mortified. Both of you. God, I was beginning to doubt you ever had a way with women,' she laughed.

Jess turned to give her a stare.

'Really. You're accusing me of not having a sexual appeal to your best friend? That's rich.'

'At least I don't have to worry about you pouncing on some woman.'

'You know what?' Jess breathed out through his nose, 'I'm not doing this.'

'But Paris...'

'Paris my ass!' Jess snapped, suddenly looking seriously pissed. 'She's been more repulsed by this stupid theatro than I was. I don't know what you're aiming but I'm out of it. And if you're still wondering why I'm not over the moon about feeling up our best friend, it's definitely not because I don't have the potency for it, it's because I don't want to. Two different things.'

'O-kay.'

He opened his mouth to yell at her because goddamn it, she deserved it, but instead moved towards her and put both hands on her hips, drawing her in to cover her mouth with his for an angry, hard kiss. Rory tried to pull back and reply but he used the momentum to deepen the kiss. Making a step forward he backed her up against the elevator wall, his legs bracing hers so he could press against her.

Blood rushed into Rory's head and she could distinctly feel the drumming of her heart. A ball clenched into her stomach and she arched on her tiptoes, reveling in the feeling of him.

The ding of the elevator marked the opening of the sliding doors and suddenly Rory was left alone in an empty elevator, the loss of the firm body that had just been pressing against hers tangible. What the hell did just happen?

* * *

'Okay,' Rory said as she went into the living room and found him by the kitchen island nursing a beer. 'That was some way to make your point.'

Jess looked up, his face sombre. He didn't say anything, just studied her from his place behind the kitchen island.

Rory bit her lip and slowly put her purse on the sofa.

'I guess we're not as okay as I thought,' she said cautiously.

Jess' mocha colored eyes were silently trained on hers, waiting.

'Will you talk to me?' she asked.

'Depends,' Jess shrugged, his eyes never leaving hers. 'Will _you_ talk to me, Rory? Or will you pretend there's nothing to talk about?'

'Do you...' Rory stepped from foot to foot and tucked a strand behind her ear. 'Do you mean Paris?'

Jess took a deep breath and let it out sharply, a bitter smile on his lips.

'No, Rory,' he managed to say with forced patience. 'I don't mean Paris. I mean you trying to-' he laughed humorlessly, 'I don't even know what you were trying to do. I just know when my girlfriend is in the zone. And you are in the zone, Rory. Ever since this priest patient died on you, you've been in the zone and I need to be able to talk to you without you pretending it's about someone else. It isn't and we both know it. I need you to be able to let me in and fucking talk to me, dammit.'

Jess paused to brace himself, running a hand through his hair. He wasn't that guy. The guy who pressured his girl until she spilled her guts. He was patient and leveled and he gave space. He had been all these things for months. And so far, they'd gotten him nowhere. She was shutting him out for the umpteenth time, and somehow, this time it hurt more than before. It hurt because he'd put himself out there and he'd told her he'd wait. And at some point he lost sight of what he was waiting for.

You need two to tango, dammit. You fucking need two to tango.

'You know,' he shook his head with a beaten expression, his fervor suddenly down. 'I've been banging my head to figure out what you could possibly be going though. And I came up with... nothing. Nothing. You know something's wrong when your girlfriend is acting weird and you have no fucking clue why. So yes, Rory, I would love to talk to you. If you could talk back for a change.'

He was bitter. He knew it. But damn, he was a bitter person. Before he met her, he was the king of bitter people. And then he met her and life was happy. Happy as it had never been, and he had become one of those happy people who almost forgot the'd been bitter once. Almost. He had the right to be bitter, because she'd taught him happiness and now she was retreating from it and he had no clue what he was doing wrong.

Rory met his look and they kept the eyelock for a while. His eyes were sad. Angry too, but mostly sad. He was offended by her privacy.

Rory sighed and sat down on the sofa, resting her head back closing her eyes. She stood like this for a while before opening her eyes to look at him. He hadn't moved from his place, his look trained on her.

'I've been trying to decide if I could let you go,' she said quietly but clearly.

Jess' face stoned into a stoic expression, unreadable as to what he was feeling. But she knew better. The corners of his mouth evened ever so slightly, and his eyes... they were molten with pain.

Rory took a breath.

'I want you to have it all,' she continued. 'Love, family, career. And I've been trying to picture you with someone who can give it - all of it - to you.'

 _What?._ Jess' eyes widened at the realization of what she was saying. Wait... Weren't they over that already? Obviously not.

'And I may have tried to make you picture that too,' she confessed, biting her lip.

Jess frowned, confused. Then slowly, articulately, as if he were talking in a foreign language and was desperately trying not to say the words wrong, he asked.

'Rory, are you saying you were trying to... set me up... with Paris?'

God, that sounded wrong. That sounded really wrong. And twisted. And crazy. And so Rory. Jeez.

Rory sighed, running both hands through her hair.

'I don't know,' she sighed. 'In a way, I guess I was. I mean,' she groaned in frustration, 'God, I don't know how to explain it, I guess I thought it was the least harmful way to test my theory.'

'Your theory.'

'The theory that you could be happy with someone else. Someone who is also good and smart and cares deeply. Someone with whom you'd have a real shot at happiness, who will be able to be the mother of your children and not their murderess.'

Jess was staring at her dumbfound. For once, he was speechless. He wasn't sure he would ever be able to speak again. The very thought was distasteful and his mind refused to digest it, it kept trying to spit it out. Him with another woman. His kids from another woman.

'You deserve this, Jess,' Rory continued to bite on her lower lip as a tear rolled down her cheek. 'You deserve the whole package, not only parts of it.'

And suddenly, he'd had enough.

'You know what?' he asked, his voice rising a notch. 'I do. I want kids. And I deserve the whole package. And mind you, I'm gonna get it. I'm gonna get the whole package, and I'm gonna get it with you.'

'Jess...'

'You,' he continued pointing at her with his index, 'are starting to picture me with a family. Oh yes. You are. But you're not picturing me with some random virtuous woman. No, it's yourself you see in your head, and that's scaring you. It's fucking scaring you and you're trying to bail on me because you're scared to picture yourself as the mother of our children. For some reason, you've got it into your head that you don't fit into that picture. Well guess what, Rory, nobody does. Nobody gets the whole package. There's always something missing and people bust their asses until they get it. And you and me, we are going to make it. I don't know the specifics, but one day you're gonna marry me and Paris will be my best man and that's that.'

He paused to take a breath and ran both hands through his hair. Then wetted his lips.

'I need a walk.'

And walked out, leaving Rory to stare dumbfound after him from her place on the sofa.

* * *

'Okay, wait here, I'll just be a minute,' Tristan told Aiden as he finished buttoning his white coat.

'Can I come with you?' the boy asked.

'No.'

'Can I?' he tried again, hopefully.

'Wait, let me think... Nope.'

'But why?'

'Because this is a hospital and kids aren't allowed to go around unattended?'

'I won't be unattended, I'll be with you.'

'No.'

'I won't be with you?'

'You won't be coming.'

'But you work here,' Aiden insisted.

'Exactly. And to be able to do this, I need to focus on my patients instead of gluing my eyes to my seven year old son who's dying to put his hands on the surgical equipment.'

'Come on, dad, I wanna see how you break that guy's bone and reposition it again.'

'No.'

'But dad...'

'It's as good as done, kid. Take it or leave it.'

'But I wanna see the nail. It's true you put actual nails in people's legs, right?'

'Implants,' Tristan sighed, raking a hand through his hair. 'They're called implants. Wait here alright? I'll be right back.'

'Okay,' Aiden sighed theatrically, slumping into the armchair with the TV remote in hand.

* * *

'Hey tiger,' Tristan entered the break room twenty minutes later, taking his coat off. 'What are you watching?'

'I'm not sure,' Aiden looked up from the TV.

'Let me see,' Tristan threw his white coat over the couch's back and sat next to Aiden.

'There are those chicks...'

'Language,' Tristan rose an eyebrow. Aiden rolled his eyes.

'Those _girls_ who have magic powers and transform into fairies and they kinda... fight the evil... or something.'

'Whoa,' Tristan frowned, watching as the animated characters moved on the TV screen, flapping their tiny mini skirts. 'That's...' he looked for a proper expression, 'That's a lot of leg.'

Another closeup of a fairy's skirt followed.

'You sure that's a kids channel?' Tristan narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

Aiden looked up at him with a shrug.

'And now they're transforming again,' Tristan blinked as the close-up of the fairy's crop top, minuscule miniskirt and high heeled boots sparkled onscreen.

Was that how one was supposed to fight evil? Hot damn.

'Okay' he took the remote from Aiden's hands, 'that's enough.'

As he turned the TV off Tristan sat for a moment, staring.

'You really sure that was a kids channel?' he asked. Because it rather looked like... hm, he wasn't what the correct term for that was - underage fairy porn? Gross. There wasn't such kind of stuff when Tristan was a kid. There were cartoons and there was porn. This was this and that was that. Two different things. Never overlapping. Where was this world heading, huh?.

Aiden shrugged.

'It said Nickelodeon.'

'Okay,' Tristan clasped his palms over his knees and stood up, 'let's move.'

He made Aiden a gesture to follow him.

'Come on, we're gonna grab something to eat and then we're gonna find some _Alf_ series to watch.'

'What's that?'

'Alf is an alien,' Tristan explained as he shrugged his jacket on and opened the break room door for Aiden to walk out.

'He's funny and hairy and super cool, I promise you you'll love him, he's a very people's alien.'

Aiden hopped before him on their way out of the hospital, his backpack flapping over his back.

'Cool! Girls are gross anyway.'

* * *

Paris waved Josh goodbye and as the wooden door to the kindergarten closed, she started walking her walk of shame as she recently came to call it. It consisted of passing through the yard where the group of country mommies had occupied two benches sipping their morning coffee, gossiping. However, Paris was always in a hurry for the morning rounds with the Chief. After all, the man was a punctuality naci. It would be a short walk of shame.

She had almost finished passing through when she heard a revving sound. Jeez, what kind of a jerk had woken up at seven in the morning to hop on his motorcycle and wake the dead?.

Despite herself, Paris turned her gaze to the street where soon enough a motorcycle appeared, passing half the street before stopping right in front of the kindergarten yard's doorway. All mommies' eyes were glued to the rider. The guy looked like he'd stepped out of the pages of a chick magazine - tall, lean and generally fitting most cliched girl's fantasies.

Paris successfully ignored him and walked on.

She'd reached the doorway when the rider stepped off the bike and took his helmet off. _What the..._

'Tristan?.' Paris half whispered, half groaned.

She looked around, as if she were afraid someone might spot her talking to him, and reached him in two swift strides.

'What are you doing here?' she hissed. Then, slightly distracted, 'You have a bike?'

With the leather jacket and dark wash jeans, he looked almost unrecognizable. Beneath the half-unzipped jasket, the V of his scrubs could be seen. Tristan gave her a wide smile and leaned closer,

'Borrowed it,' he whispered. 'Follow my lead,' he murmured before he reached to take hold of her arm and pull her towards himself, intertwining their fingers.

'Hey, beautiful,' he said louder, but not loud enough to draw suspicion.'I forgot to tell you something this morning.'

Loud enough. So it could be heard by, say, randomly bystanding hater mommies. And playful. His tone was goddamn playful.

'What?.' Paris moved her look from Tristan's wide smile to their intertwined fingers. Then he pulled on her hand, guiding her to turn along with him so she ended up trapped between him and the motorcycle. Suddenly her personal space felt drastically invaded.

'They're watching,' came Tristan's low whisper.

'They can watch as I slap your nose flat,' Paris glared.

'I'm doing Rory's alpha jerk a favor,' he shrugged, stepping yet another inch closer. 'You know, impressing mommies happens to be one of my many charms.'

'Dugray, I can see your pores,' Paris hissed quietly but nonetheless insistently.

The smile on Tristan's lips morphed into an amused smirk.

'That's what women do with their irresistible fake boyfriends, isn't it?' he asked, moving his free hand up to graze her cheek with his knuckles.

The gesture was unexpected and Paris didn't even have time to flinch when he was already leaning towards her. Maybe he recognized the warning in her eyes. Or maybe he had some basic common sense. However, he didn't try to lean further for an actual kiss, instead he settled for stopping close above her ear.

'Are those the scary mommies?' he asked with a slight tilt of his head towards the bench where the women were (staring with their jaws hung open).

Paris' brows furrowed but she felt herself nod in response.

'You have the tightest ass of them all,' he informed her in the same low whisper. She began to move back so she could give him a menacing look but his hand moved from her cheek to the back of her head into a chaste caress. _What the hell?_

'Dugray, did you just stroke my hair?' she asked stiffly.

He smirked. She could feel it by the move of his stubble against her temple. That's how close he was.

'Maybe.'

'Move away or I'll knee-smash your chance for reproduction.'

'Stop being sassy and think big,' Tristan prompted, the smirk audible in his voice. 'Give it another minute and it's as good as done.'

'What are you talking about?'

'Your social image is being redeemed to unknown heights, Geller.'

'Are you on crack?'

'Ten, nine...'

'No, really. Are you? Because you're not allowed to work as a surgeon if you're a drug addict. I saw today's schedule and you're supposed to scrub in with me for a diagnostic laparoscopy in 3rd and I'm not gonna let that happen if you're off in la la land.'

'Seven, six...'

She could smell his aftershave. It smelled like wind and ocean. And man. She felt a pang at the uninvited realization that she'd missed the smell. That she'd missed Doyle.

'Get your hands off me and move away,' Paris started to lift her hands to push him back but sensing her movement Tristan made a step back and took hold of her wrists, lifting them up in a smooth gesture, bringing her palms close to his lips. Wasn't he smooth?. Huh.

She glared.

He gave her a wink right before releasing her wrists. With his back to the mommies, the whole exchange must have seemed pretty intimate. Cute couple holding hands. Right. That was, if the observing mommies weren't paying close attention to Paris' look instead of checking Tristan out. Otherwise it would've looked like a homicide attempt stopped short.

'... two, one,' he finished counting. 'See?' he grinned, making another step back freeing her personal space of himself completely. 'Piece of cake.'

'See you at work, angel,' he added louder.

Then made his way around the motorbike to put his helmet back on, all of this without hurrying, so that the women from the bench could get an eyeful. As he mounted on the bike, he leaned towards Paris who was still standing on the same spot, and smirked,

'You could be on top of my MILF list Geller.'

She could hear the chuckle in his voice and would swear he said that to push her buttons but as she opened her mouth to reply he had already snapped the visor down and the bike was revving away down the street.

Paris shook her head, sobering up. She smoothed the ends of her coat before continuing on her way towards the subway station. She tried hard not to look back but with her peripheral she caught the awe oozing out of the group of mommies who were hardly keeping their coffee cups upright. Oh well.

* * *

 **TBC**


	22. Chapter 22

_Disclaimer: Disappointingly, nothing's mine._

* * *

Jess stared at the note in his hands for a couple more minutes, then put it back on the kitchen island and rubbed his jaw. He paced through the kitchen for a while, then took the note only to put it back on the kitchen island.

' _I'm at Paris'. Need some sorting my head out. Don't hate me._ '

He dug his mobile out of his jeans pocket and turned it around in his hands a few times before he let out a frustrated sigh and unlocked the screen.

 _How RU?_

He hit send before he had time to think better of it. Then, throwing another look at the screen, he typed in,

 _Don't hate you._

Duh. Man, how did they get to this point? And where did they get from here? How are you, I don't hate you. Really?. How lame was that? I don't hate you. Was that a new euphemism for I want you to be my wife and have my babies because I'm madly in love with you?. He needed to get his act together. At least one of them had to act reasonably.

His mobile flashed in his hand.

 _I love you._

He stared, the words mocking him from the screen. They both felt true and untrue. He hated the bitterness that rose inside him as he read the three simple words. She did. He knew it. She loved him. But she also had some twisted ways of showing it. By asking him to not hate her. By asking for space. By trying to set him free so that he could find someone better. Jeez.

What was he supposed to do now? Go after her and grovel? Go after her and manhandle her? Give her space? Or finally draw the line and take things into his own hands by giving her an ultimatum? Me or your unconsumed guilt, Gilmore. You have to choose. Ehm, no.

Jess felt a strong urge to light a smoke. He hadn't been smoking. Not that he had particularly given the habit up. He just hadn't thought about it for a while. However, sometimes he felt that urge that made his fingers search for the missing cigarette pack in his jeans pocket.

When he was in medical training as an intern, he was thaught that the worst that could happen to a doctor was let chaos take over. In case of medical emergency panic was a destructive, contagious force. In order to prevent it from ruining any chance for survival, there had to be someone in charge. As Jess gained more medical experience, he learned that doctors, just like all other people, were different. Some took responsibility. Others preferred to pass it on to the next loop from the chain - the attending physician, circumstance, God. There were two sides of this coin. Either you took charge, or you followed lead.

In his medical practice Jess Mariano had chosen to take charge. He assessed a situation, took in the facts, formed a decision and acted on it. He was confident. Perhaps even conceited. Why not? That's who he was. As a doctor. As a man... he had put a lot of patience in his relationship with Rory. It wasn't something to brag about, it was simply the truth. While at the beginning she had patiently waited for him to open up, unpeeling his walls layer by layer, ever since they became a couple she was the discreet and evasive one. He wasn't magically an open book but he had chosen to be forward when it came to her. He told her stuff. He didn't keep to himself, not the way she was.

Rory Gilmore was a paradoxical combination of outgoing and secretive. He had learned that about her - she could be inches from you, babbling on and on about all kinds of random stuff but at the same time she wouldn't really let you in or tell you something of real importance about herself. She kept her secrets well. She kept them buried under layers of evasiveness and denial. She kept them from herself. And he had learned to wait for her, letting her set the pace of their relationship. He waited for her. Dutifully, patiently. Because she was worth it.

He stared at his mobile, Rory's three words staring back.

He typed his response in and hit send.

 _I love you too._

* * *

'Finally. He proposed.' Paris sighed with a _Duh_ expression.

They were standing in Paris' kitchen dressed in matching onesies. It was something from their time as roommates. They had those onesies they bought at the end of their first semester in Med school and put them on when they had a girls' night in, eating junk and mocking reality shows.

Rory waited for Paris to take out all ice-cream boxes from her freezer, picking on the zipper of her onesie.

'The more proper term would be informed,' Rory corrected, looking around her friend's kitchen absent-mindedly. 'He informed me we were getting married at some point.'

'Ah, Jess - always the romantic,' Paris shook her head with a small smile carrying the two large boxes of ice-cream into the living room.

'I made an abortion.'

Paris' eyes darted up and she stopped midstep.

'What? Today? That's why you fought?'

'No,' Rory shook her head and bit down on her lip. 'Not today. A couple of months before graduating Med school. I guess we'd better sit down for a while.'

They sat. Paris opened the ice-cream boxes. And Rory started talking.

* * *

'I don't know what you expect me to say.'

They were sitting in Paris' living room and Rory had finished her story. Paris slowly shook her head with a thoughtful expression, staring ahead.

'Neither do I,' Rory shrugged helplessly.

'You didn't tell me,' Paris pointed out.

'I didn't know how.'

'What about when I found out I was pregnant with Josh and was this close to ending it? Hey Paris, don't make an abortion because I've already been there, done that and it sucks?'

Rory looked up and bit on her lip, a stung expression on her face.

'That's cruel.'

'It's honest,' Paris shot back, looking her square in the eye.

'Are you saying I should've kept the baby?' Rory asked, her own voice rising a notch.

'I'm saying you should've been honest with me. I sat there, crying my heart out in the bathroom of our rental feeling like a total freak and you didn't say a word. I was lost and panicked and you never said a word.'

'Would it have made a difference?' Rory replied defiantly.

Paris let out a humorless laugh.

'You are sitting on the sofa of my living room instead of being with the man who's been turning into a pile of goo over you declaring his neverending love for you for the last three years. When I met Jess Mariano, he was that punk wearing his anger on his sleeve. Last time I checked, he's that happy enamored goof who would do about anything about the love of his life. He's repeatedly showed you he's there for you, yet here you are running away. It has made a difference, Rory. It still is.'

Paris stood up and started to leave. She turned at the door.

'The spare key is on the kitchen table. Don't leave food out of the fridge.'

And with that she exited the room, leaving Rory deal with the aftermath of their conversation.

* * *

'Twenty-three year old male, was in a motorcycle accident three days ago. He was fine until this morning when he woke up feeling dizzy,' Helen reported as Rory entered the ER.

'Are we gonna get a doctor or what?' a male voice shouted behind Curtain 5.

Helen nodded towards Curtain 5.

'The guy's brother is on a short fuse.'

'Hello...' Rory looked at the patient's file 'Mister Banks. I'm doctor Gilmore.'

'Please call me Ben,' the younger of the two men who was sitting on the exam bed gave her a wide smile. 'Mr Banks sounds more appropriate for some nerdy old guy like my brother here.'

'You need to have a look at my brother. He was in a car accident,' the elder man started. His brother cut in.

'She knows, man. That's why she's here. Right doctor G?'

'Right,' Rory nodded, exchanging a quick look with Helen. 'Mister Banks,' she turned towards the older brother, 'I need to examine your brother. Can you wait outside in the common area?'

'Is that necessary?'

'Let the doctor do her job, Phil,' Ben gave his brother a look.

Phil stepped from foot to foot awkwardly.

'I guess I could use a drink. Excuse me.'

'If you're wondering, he's always like this,' Ben whispered mock-conspiratorially once Phil had left. 'He's overprotective because he cares too much. That's how I get to be the fun one,' he flashed Rory another wide smile and gave her a wink.

Rory and Helen smiled back. Ben's smile was contagious.

* * *

Rory entered the elevator and pushed the button to the -2 floor. She leaned back against the side of the elevator, letting her eyes close half shut. She hadn't had much sleep last couple of nights. Staying at Paris' had its perks. One of them being having a lively three year old around. You could never get bored. Let alone sit and mope around after you did something stupid like, say, pushing away the love of your life. Yet, the amount of sleep you did get at the end of the day was never enough. The apartment was never really quiet. Rory felt exhausted. She had no idea how Paris was doing it. Being a parent was a never-ending shift.

The elevator got to floor 1 and everyone left except for Rory. She was headed downstairs to Radiology to get Ben's head scan.

Just before the doors slid closed someone slipped a patient's chart between the closing doors and they opened to let the person in.

Rory opened her left eye while still trying to sleep with her right one to see her boyfriend standing right before her. She straightened up, feeling his eyes on her. He kept her look and she felt warmer. He stepped closer. Rory's eyes widened in surprise. Jess made another step forward, practically hovering her. She bit her lip, trying to control her erratic heartbeat. Her blood was pumping in her ears, adrenaline jolts running like static over her skin. Jess leaned forward to where she was standing and reached out. She held her breath.

He pushed the button to the sixth floor and stepped back, resuming his previous position against the opposite wall of the elevator.

Rory tried to cover her disappointment at the loss of proximity but supposed it was a little late for that given how easily he read her. Smooth Jess. She felt the corners of her mouth inch up with the hint of a smile. His eyes glinted knowingly.

The elevator doors slid open.

'Doctor Gilmore!' someone called exasperatedly, breaking the spell. 'Benjamin Banks,' one of Rory's interns braced both palms against her knees, panting. 'He's crashing.'

* * *

She was standing by Chief Robertson's side as he put Ben's CT scan onto the view box.

'Coup-countercoup injury. He hit his head and the blow against the skull caused cerebral contusion of the contralateral temporal pole. He has parenchymal hematoma. His ICP is getting higher and that's why he seized.'

Rory thought back to Ben's room where he had been vomiting, looking increasingly pale. He was getting worse and she wasn't sure she knew how to stop it.

The Chief turned towards her.

'Start Mannitol and corticosteroids. We have to try and decrease the intracranial pressure.'

'But if we can't drain the blood...'

'It will crash his brain.'

 _And he's gonna die._

Chief Robertson kept her look, affirming her unvoiced thoughts.

'Start therapy and keep me updated.'

* * *

'I should've stopped him,' Phil Banks shook his head. They were standing outside Ben's room. Rory hated that part. The part where you had to inform the patient's family that there was a pretty good chance he wouldn't make it. She hated the way she had to crash people's hope in miracles. Sometimes she wished she believed in miracles so she could soothe her conscience when talking to the patient's relatives so she wouldn't give them false hope.

'He shouldn't have taken that motorcycle in the first place.'

'Mister Banks, it's not your...'

'You don't understand,' Phil shook his head with an exasperated sigh. 'We lost our parents in a car accident ten years ago. I've been Benjamin's legal guardian ever since. I know that to you he's a grown man but to me he'll always be my little brother. I am responsible for him. That's not gonna change.'

They both turned to look at Ben's room where he was lying on his bed, tubes and iv lines supporting his life. There was bandage covering the side of his head. The Chief had ordered craniotomy as the medications weren't enough to ensure decompression of Ben's brain. If they hadn't done it, Ben's brain would herniate and he wouldn't have made it. Bad news was, there was no guarantees he would make it anyway. It didn't make sense. Ben was young and full of life and healthy. At least he had been. And now he was probably gonna die. It didn't make sense. But then again, death never did. There was no right moment to die, mindless the circumstances.

'You know,' Phil smiled sadly, 'he was always the easy-going one. Such a sunny kid. Even after we lost our parents, he never fell into self-pity. Instead, he was there with me for everything - the funeral, moving towns so he could come live with me into my rental until I graduated college. He would constantly make funny jokes trying to make light of the situation. I feel like I took away his right to feel unhappy about his life. I was always the serious one. You know, working or studying, trying to take care of both of us, that he never got the chance to rant. The only thing we never agreed on was his adventurous side. Cliff jumping, parasailing, speed racing, motorcycling. He liked getting adrenaline high and I never managed to stop him.'

Rory patted Phil's arm sympathetically.

'It was his choice to live his life the way he wanted.'

'But it was my choice not to do anything about it.'

* * *

'Hey, doctor G,' Ben greeted weakly as Rory approached his bed.

'Hey,' she smiled back. 'How are you feeling?'

'Stay back in case my head explodes through this hole in my skull over there,' he tried to gesture towards the bandage on the side of his head but was too weak to move his hand and rested it back on the bed. 'How's Phil?' he asked and smiled lovingly. 'He's such a control freak, he must be going nuts over there. He giving you a hard time?'

'Nah,' Rory waved her hand. 'He's fine. He's just worried.'

'He must be beating himself about not being able to stop me from motorcycling and having to drag me to the hospital earlier blah-blah.'

'You're right,' Rory smiled. 'He's such a pain in the ass.'

'Yeah,' Ben confirmed, an air of nostalgia in his eyes. 'I'm all the family he's got. He's always doing his best to protect me.'

Ben looked up at her.

'Doc, can you do something for me?'

'Ehm, sure.'

'If something happens to me, will you tell Phil that he sucks?'

'O-kay?'

'It's something we've been doing since we were kids. It's a game we played. It's called 'you suck'. You tell someone 'you suck' and they tell you - 'no, you suck' and... well, that's pretty much it.'

She squeezed his shoulder and gave him a nod.

'You got it, Ben.'

'You're cool, doc. If I had a more proper chance for survival, maybe I would even try and hit on you.'

'I'm sure you would, Ben,' Rory smiled back.

'It's funny isn't it?' he sighed. 'You think you've got all the time in the world and then suddenly you don't.'

Rory tucked a strand behind her ear, not really sure what to say.

'I know you probably hear that all the time, but well, I don't wanna die, doc,' Ben said.

'I know.'

'Yeah.' he wetted his dry lips. 'I keep thinking, what if I hadn't gotten on that motorbike, what if that accident never happened?'

'You can never know. What-ifs didn't happen for a reason, I guess,' Rory shrugged, a sad smile on her own lips.

'Yeah,' Ben nodded thoughtfully. 'I mean, it's who I am, ya know? I'm a sucker for motorbikes, so I ride a bike. That's who I am. I would've probably done it anyway.'

He turned to face her.

'Thanks for talking to me, doc.'

She gave him a nod and started to go.

'Doc?'

'Yeah.'

'You suck.'

Rory smiled and shook her head before she left the room.

* * *

Philip Banks was staying by his brother's bed looking at the monitor blindly. Rory quietly approached him, stopping two feet behind, letting him have some privacy.

They stood for a while, listening to the beep of the monitors, watching the rhythmic rise and fall of Ben's chest due to the mechanical ventilation.

'Can he hear me?' Phil asked, his voice raspy. He turned to look at Rory. She bit on her lip before she answered.

'The pressure in his skull was rising due to the trauma and impaired his brain function. At ten thirty this morning his breathing stopped and we called code blue. We inserted a tube that inflates air into his lungs and mechanically assists his breathing. We performed EEG which is a test to measure the electrical activity in his brain.'

Phil's eyes were wide and glistened with last hope.

'I'm sorry, Phil,' Rory put a hand on his shoulder.

The man gasped and put a palm over his moth, stifling a sob.

'He...' Rory threw a quick look at Ben, then back at Phil. 'He asked me to tell you something.'

Phil braced himself on his knees and looked up at her.

'You suck.'

For a moment Phil was both laughing and crying, then he sat down by Ben's bed and put his head into both hands, letting his sobs take over his body.

Rory took a deep breath and left the room, leaving Phil with his grief. Benjamin Banks had chosen to live in the fast lane. He had lived a short and passionate life. He had been loved and would be missed. Rory felt a tear roll down her side and stop at her jawline.

* * *

'Come in,' Chief Robertson said without looking up from the papers that were spread on his desk.

'Chief,' Rory said, stopping in front of his desk. 'You wanted to see me.'

'Oh hey, Gilmore,' he leaned back in his swivel chair. 'I wanted you to see something.'

He reached for a folder and gave it to her over the desk. She took it with a questioning look.

'That's Julie Jenkins' case,' the Chief nodded towards the file in her hands. 'Julie was born with univentricular heart and had Fontan procedure as a newborn. At the age of six she started showing signs of progressive heart failure. Currently at the age of nine, she has been in the waiting list for a heart transplant for three years. Benjamin Banks' driving license says he's a donor. First labs show he may be a match for Julie.'

* * *

Paris entered the Gallery overlooking the operating room. Rory turned to acknowledge her with a small nod.

Paris sat next to her as they watched together the rest of the heart transplantation surgery.

When it was over, Rory stood up. Paris rose after her. Rory turned to go but Paris squeezed her forearm and Rory turned back. The look in Paris' eyes conveyed strong emotion.

'If you hadn't done your abortion, you wouldn't be there to tell me not to go through with mine. If you hadn't done it, I wouldn't have Josh and my life would never change the way it did. You didn't have your child but helped me not to give up on mine. I'll always be thankful for that.'

Rory's eyes stung. Feeling her shoulders lighter, she let out a sigh. In between a laugh and a sob, she mouthed,

'Thank you.'

Paris gave her a small nod, lips pressed tight, keeping the eyelock.

Somehow, with Paris' words came some revelation. Maybe it was forgiveness. Maybe it was relief.

But there was something. Rory had never let herself feel good about what she'd done. It had always felt like the logical thing to do, yet she had recurring doubts whether it was really her only choice.

There was something good that came out of all this. A child didn't live. Another one, however, did. Some strange equilibrium that didn't make it allright, but at least made some twisted sense. For the first time in four years, Rory felt the right to feel peace. She had a feeling of purpose.

Doctor Rory Gilmore went out of the Gallery and passed through the corridor leading to the OR. In the waiting area she saw Chief Robertson giving information to the girl's family. Philip Banks was standing a couple of feet away, his hands balled into nervous fists, his whole body stiff with anticipation. Crying, Julie's mother turned to draw Phil into a tight embrace.

Rory continued on her way towards the elevator. As the doors slid open, she saw Jess and a couple more of their colleagues were in. She entered and stood beside Jess, their shoulders brushing. As the elevator started moving, she took his hand in hers. Jess' fingers closed around hers. Rory felt herself breathe again.

* * *

 **TBC**


	23. Chapter 23

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine._

 _A/N: A somewhat filler chapter, yet I felt the need to let them have a break before what's coming. So enjoy :))_

* * *

The sun rose over the horizon, its glorious morning blaze reflecting in the waves, making the water look like quicksilver. The light breeze carried the salty odor along the shore, like a bunch of promises.

'Beautiful,' Rory sighed contently, her look aimed at the horizon.

'So gorgeous,' Jess murmured into her ear, his breath tickling the skin of her neck.

She had missed his morning voice. Sleep-clogged, husky and full of mischief. She smiled as she felt him bury his nose in her hair and inhale. She could've made a joke. But she was too happy to joke. He had missed her and wasn't too cautious to show it. In the context of Jess Mariano that was huge. And sweet.

The wide span of his palm warmed her bare skin against the breeze. She turned her head to the side to touch her lips to his jaw. He tasted like salt and sea.

'I changed my mind,' he mumbled moving to kiss her neck, his stubble grazing her skin. 'Let's not go to the beach.'

He continued placing light kisses along her jaw, then up the side of her face. One of his palms moved up to the lower hem of the top of her bikini while the other spanned over her belly, pressing her back into him. Rory let out a small whimper.

'Let's go back inside. I promise you won't miss the beach.'

And she felt herself willing to hold him onto his promise.

* * *

Doctor Paris Geller was sipping on the straw of her cocktail and looked around the pool area with a puzzled expression.

'This is awkward.'

Lying leisurely in her sun lounger, Doctor Rory Gilmore opened one eye, peeking beneath her wide brim hat.

'What is.'

Paris sighed dramatically.

'This.'

When Rory didn't reply Paris rolled her eyes.

'Doing nothing.'

'It's called vacation, Paris.'

'Oh please, this word is such a perversion.'

'Relax,' Rory said and closed her eye again.

'We could be in the middle of discovering a cure for cancer right now.'

'Let me think,' Rory murmured feigning hard thinking. 'I'd rather be here.'

'I'm getting auditory hallucinations,' Paris insisted.

'Joan of Arc got those too,' Rory shrugged.

'So did the schizo patient in 4th last week. I hear Josh whining, monitors beeping. It's distracting.'

'Well, put up with it. Worse things than vacations happen to humankind.'

'I'm a workaholic,' Paris didn't give up. 'Doing nothing is torturous.'

'You're an obsessed mother. You're Josh-deprived and can't wait until he's back from Doyle's.'

'Well, that too.'

Josh was staying at Doyle's for three weeks. It was something they had discussed when they signed over custody rights. Paris got full custody as long as Doyle could have Josh for vacations a couple of times a year. Paris sighed with frustration.

'What if he likes it better there?'

'Where?'

'With his daddy,' Paris rolled her eyes. 'What if Doyle has a new girlfriend and Josh starts calling her mommy? What if she's one of those Momzillas who cook and play with other people's children and spend family time on picnics?'

Paris' eyes were wide with terror at her own presumptions.

'He's your child, Paris,' Rory sighed. 'What are the chances he'd fall for a Stepford Mommy?'

Paris thought about it for a couple of seconds.

'Less than seven percent.'

'Exactly. Your child is safe, my friend. He'll come home next week missing his badass mommy like hell.'

Paris sighed with longing.

'He better.'

She looked around with disgust.

'I don't like Greece,' she muttered. 'It's so sunny and... care-free. It's unnerving.'

Rory shook her head with a knowing smirk. Five thousand miles away from home Paris was still Paris.

* * *

Back in NYC a father was putting his son to sleep.

'Will you tell me the story?'

Tristan's brow arched.

'Which story?'

Aiden gave him a pointed look. Tristan sighed.

'You know it by heart anyway.'

'You look tired,' Aiden shrugged. 'And it always gets you in a better mood.'

'I doubt that.'

'It does,' the boy insisted. 'Come on, dad,' Aiden pleaded giving Tristan puppy eyes. 'Pretty pleeease. Please, please, pleeease.'

Tristan shook his head with a weary smirk and made Aiden a sign to move to the side of the bed. He sat next to him, stretching his long legs forward.

'Okay,' Tristan gave the boy a sideways glance as he folded his arms under his head. 'How did it start?'

'There was this boy who was meant to be a prince,' Aiden prompted.

'There was this boy who was meant to be a prince,' Tristan started, closing his eyes. 'But he didn't want to rule his father's kingdom. So he left the kingdom in search for his fate. He traveled and traveled. He crossed many mountains. Sailed across many seas. He even sailed across an ocean. Until one day, he arrived in a distant land. People there spoke another language and worshiped a different god. At this point the boy had already grown into a young man. He thought he would continue with his travelings but in this faraway kingdom he met a beautiful princess. The princess was the most kind and beautiful woman the traveling prince had ever met. However, she was married to the prince of the kingdom and they had a wonderful baby boy. Unfortunately, the beautiful princess and her husband suffered a bad illness and one day it took them away from their beloved son. The traveling prince swore to take care of the child and ever since, they became inseparable. They took care of each other and helped each other through some of the hardest times. And that's how it really happened. Happy now?'

'Almost. You forgot the superpowers.'

'O-kaay. So, as they became the most incredible male team on planet Earth, the Travelling prince and the little boy got their superpowers. The Traveling prince could heal the ill and the boy could run as fast as the light.'

'And fly like a bird.'

'O-ka...'

'Oh, and see as an eagle.'

'Aiden.'

'Just one more.'

'Just one.'

'One, one... and turn air into candy.'

'What?.'

'It's my story too,' Aiden shrugged innocently.'

'Okay, kiddo, that's enough. Now go to sleep.'

'Night, daddy.'

'Night, tiger.'

Tristan kissed the boy's forehead and just as he was about to turn the light off, he paused to look at his peaceful face. The boy was sound asleep.

* * *

'I don't get it,' Paris shook her head while applying sunscreen over her arms and shoulders. 'Have you seen them together? Last week he brought Aiden to the hospital. He's this little boy's hero, it's like he doesn't know him at all.'

'Paris,' Rory said, ' _We_ don't know Tristan at all. We spent a couple of months in the same high school, that's all. Ten years passed since then. We grew up.'

' _We_ did.'

'Maybe he did, too,' Rory shrugged thoughtfully. 'You don't know this.'

Jess who was playing Sudoku on his mobile only grunted something unintelligible.

Paris seemed to think Rory's words over for a while, then rested back in her sun lounger.

'Yeah. You're probably right.'

Rory looked at her suspiciously.

'Paris, did you just admit that you might be wrong?'

'Possibly. Why?'

Rory gave Jess an incredulous look. He only shrugged and continued playing on his phone.

'Oh my god.'

Rory shook her head, thinking Paris Geller might indeed be vacation-intolerant. So much sun and fresh air was starting to mess with her head.

* * *

A couple of hours later Rory and Jess found Paris leaning against the pool bar, gripping on her phone.

'Hey, Paris,' Rory greeted, 'what are you doing?'

'I'm whining about you and Jess being a total sap, what else?'

'Ehm, to whom?' Jess asked.

'See?' Paris looked at Rory accusingly, 'That's exactly the problem. I don't have any other friends. I decide I wanna live on the edge and venture into a beach vacation with my two best friends who happen to be sickeningly in love and I'm left with no one to rant to. This vacation was such a mistake,' she shook her head dejectedly. 'It's your fault,' she pointed a forefinger at Rory.

'Eh, what?'

'I shouldn't have listened to you. Instead of witnessing the most romantic reunion known to humanity, I should've tried to escape the bothering insecurities about my motherly skills and miss my only son like crazy back at the hospital where I could be digging into some guy's gut while being paid for it.'

Jess made the bartender a sign to pour him a drink. Rory, however, seemed pretty unfazed by Paris' tirade.

'So who were you calling?' Rory inquired.

Paris shrugged with an air of defeat.

'Helen.'

'Helen?'

'Yep.'

'I didn't know you're friends with Helen,' Rory's eyebrows furrowed.

Jess choked on his drink.

'I'm not.'

Rory gave her a look.

'What?. I needed someone on the other end of the line, I have her number on my cell, end of story,' Paris folded her arms stubbornly.

There was a fuss at the other end of the pool area.

'Help! Please, somebody help me, my daughter got bitten by a snake!' a woman cried out.

'Finally,' Paris put her cocktail glass down with a thud. 'I was getting bored to death here.'

Then she was on her way to the small crowd that was beginning to gather around the mother and the girl.

'Kaleste yatro!' someone called out.

'The doctor has come, agapi,' Paris said as she pushed through the bystanders. 'Find me something we can tie her limb with. Move!'

Finally, she was feeling like herself again.

* * *

 **TBC**


	24. Chapter 24

_Disclaimer : I own nothing._

 ** _A/N: A somewhat Paris centered chapter. I know you probably expect her to be some kind of wonder woman, but I firmly believe that even wonder woman has bad hair days... so yeah. Here comes another chapter. Hope you enjoy :)_**

* * *

The talk around the table was going full speed, moving between work, children and politics.

Paris leaned over to move a plate of fries to the side and place another plate with grilled cheese next to it.

Something caught her eye. Her right hand. Her eyes narrowed, searching for what's wrong. She couldn't name it right away. It was just... _something_.

Then, on her way towards the kitchen, she remembered. Her ring finger. Her ringless ring finger missing its mark. Right where the skin under her wedding band used to be colored a paler hue. Not anymore. Now it was colored just as the rest of her hand, as if a wedding band had never been there. Time had passed. The mark was gone.

Paris felt a pull in her chest. Her pulse quickened, her ears buzzed. And she felt what could only be described as an overwhelming sense of loss. Questions fought for attention at the back of her mind. Was this when you realized your marriage was over? Like over, indefinitely. Was it right that her marriage had been over for over six months now but never got the chance to be mourned? Because it felt wrong somehow. Missing your wedding band mark meant something. The death of a marriage was something worth remembering, damn it.

She heard the children yelling from the room where the kids were playing. She could pick on Josh's angry grumble and a couple of other children's voices. She went to see what the hassle was about and went in just as Josh was hitting one of the twins on the head with his red firetruck. The other kid was trying to fight back but Josh had the upper hand and wouldn't let him get off the ground.

Her love for Josh was unconditional. Her approval, however, wasn't. He couldn't go around smacking kids. Although she did take some pride in the fact that Josh was seemingly winning. So not the point though.

'Okay, that's enough,' she stepped in between the fighting boys. 'Josh, I said enough!' she rose her voice when he didn't stop.

Finally she managed to pull them apart, both kids looking angry. God, today her son was turning three, when exactly did he start getting into fights?

'Josh, can I have a word?' she asked in a clipped voice. One that, in Josh's rather vast experience, meant he was in trouble.

'Why?' he asked in that stubborn voice kids use when they know they've done something wrong but want you to name it and convince them it was actually wrong.

'Can I have a word?' she insisted, nodding towards the kitchen.

Josh sighed emphatically and followed her into the kitchen.

'You're grounded,' she said calmly but firmly.

'No.'

'Yes.'

'Why?'

'Because you hit Brian, repeatedly. And hitting is bad.'

'He took my truck!' Josh said, in equal amounts indignant and defiant.

'You had him on the ground but continued to hit him,' Paris said firmly, refusing to get sidetracked by Josh's reasoning. 'This was a bad thing to do and I want you to think about it. In your room,' she added quickly as she saw the glimmer of hope in Josh's eyes.

'It's my birthday!' he tried.

'Oh, I do remember, believe me.'

'I don't wanna!' he whined.

'I don't wanna have to reestablish my dictatorship. Just take it in stride - I'm the boss, you're my slave, pardon - son. Are we clear?'

'I don't wanna,' he stomped his foot.

'Well, you're gonna have to anyway.'

'I hate you,' he muttered.

Paris' head snapped up.

'What did you say?'

'I hate you!' Josh repeated loudly, with more feeling. 'I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!'

Paris blinked, stung by his outburst. Somehow, it caught her unprepared. She didn't know why. Didn't all kids throw tantrums like that? They probably did. Or maybe they didn't. She wasn't sure. Maybe only the kids of divorced parents misbehaved and stood by their bad reasoning. Or maybe she threw those tantrums herself, when she was Josh's age and something was denied to her. Who knew? She didn't. That was the thing. She had no idea. She had zero former parenting experience when it came to raising that unbelievably smart and rebelious three year old kid that was her son. And she had no one to ask. Her parents practically didn't know her. Her nanny didn't remember her. She was a clueless Ivy League graduate who excelled in her profession but was hugely improvising when it came to being a mother, especially a single mother.

'I wanna go stay with daddy in California!' Josh shouted and ran into his room, leaving her numb.

...

'She handles herself well,' Jess noted awkwardly as the talk at the table died while upstairs Josh was screaming that he didn't want Paris to be his mom anymore.

Everybody nodded reluctantly as Josh's ' _I wanna stay with daddy_ ' carried over.

Okay, maybe it was better to keep his mouth shut, Jess thought and poured himself another bourbon. It was a kids' birthday party so the alcohol was going around full speed at the adults' table.

'She's tough,' Rory nodded thoughtfully and sipped on her wine. 'But on the inside she's full of goo.'

Tristan let out a low chuckle.

'Ah, Paris Geller, that big softie.'

'She is,' Rory insisted.

'So was Joseph Stalin.'

'Ah, Stalin,' Rory sighed dreamily. 'His bio was her favorite bedtime reading as a kid.'

Everybody has a right to be stupid but some people abuse it. Ah, it was as if Paris was the living reincarnation of the Soviet dictator.

'Wait, Paris was a kid once?'

'Unlike some of us, she outgrew it,' Jess muttered as he picked another handful of almonds.

'You know, we're supposed to be all grown-up and save them but in fact our kids do most of the saving. Aiden is the sole thing that keeps me sane, pulls me back together whenever I lose track of things.'

'Where's all that parenting wisdom coming from?' Rory narrowed her eyes, impressed.

Tristan arched an eyebrow and raised his scotch, shrugging.

'I must've read it in Cosmo or something.'

They would probably keep on bickering if Paris hadn't entered the room. Everyone got quiet, waiting.

'Okay,' she let out a frustrated sigh. 'So that just happened.'

Rory gave her a once-over and was quick to give her her glass of wine. Paris took it and dried it in a swig.

'I'll get Aiden and call a cab,' Tristan volunteered, quickly standing up and starting to gather his and Aiden's belongings.

'Make the cabs two,' Jane, one of their colleagues who was also here with her twins said, mirroring Tristan's quick reaction.

Soon Paris' living room emptied, saved for Paris and Rory.

Paris reached for the wine and lifted it, drinking straight from the bottle.

'Am I a shitty mom?' she asked while staring at some indefinite point on the opposite wall.

'No,' Rory said firmly. 'You're the epitome of a tough, badass mom.'

'Doesn't feel like I am.'

'Doing the right thing sucks,' Rory shrugged and took the bottle from Paris to take a swig before she returned it.

Like hell it did. Doing the right thing sucked big time and didn't even feel like the right thing. Then how did you even know it was the right thing and not just another shitty thing you did to get out of a shitty situation?

'He wants to stay with Doyle,' Paris said numbly.

'He's only saying it because you're not putting up with his three-year-old antics,' Rory said.

'What if he's right,' Paris said thoughtfully. 'What if Doyle is the better parent?'

'Paris, there is no better parent. That's not a competition. You and Doyle are always gonna play good cop bad cop with him because Josh is your child and you both care about him. You do what has to be done, that's all Josh eventually needs.'

'He hates me.'

'He loves you. But you're his mom, of course sometimes he'll say he hates you. Haven't you ever told your mom that... Sorry.'

Rory bit her tongue. She was gonna ask if Paris had never had a fight with her own mom but midsentence she realized that Paris probably didn't have those fights since she never really had her parents in her life.

'You don't think Josh hates me?' Paris asked, doubtful.

'Are we really considering this? Like in, considering it as an actual possibility?' Rory rose an eyebrow.

They stood in a rather comfortable silence, one that old friends shared with little to no words needed but some comfort transpiring anyway.

'You'd make an okay mom,' Paris said then.

Rory's eyes glimmered. She smiled.

'And you _are_ an okay mom, Paris. More than okay. You're Josh's hero.'

Rory only hoped she would feel more like it soon.

* * *

'Allrightey, Mr Tall Dark and Handsome,' Tristan stopped writing his surgery protocol and turned towards Jess who had just entered the common room closing the door with a slam.

Jess gave him a glare.

'Don't mess with me.'

'Don't mess with him,' Helen confirmed after one look at Jess. She took her steaming mug from the coffee maker in the corner of the common room and made her way out giving Tristan a sympathetic look. She knew from experience that when Jess was in a sour mood he was ready to pour his anger on anyone who was unlucky enough to hang around.

'Damn,' Jess moved his wrists in a circular motion and sat down on the common room sofa. 'I can still feel the cauter in my hand. Loads and loads to cut. The whole mesentery was dead by the time we opened him up.'

'Someone died on you, didn't they?' Tristan looked up from the keyboard, pausing his writing again.

'What are you, psychic?' Jess asked irritably.

Tristan shrugged.

'I heard the scrub nurse complaining about being in a six-hour surgery and losing the guy. Figures.'

'Yeah,' Jess sighed. 'Shit,' he ran a palm up and down his face. 'I'm beat.'

'You want me to make your rounds for you?' Tristan asked resuming his typing.

Jess' brows arched up.

'You're kidding me right?'

Tristan chuckled.

'Of course I'm kidding you.'

'Fuck you Dugray,' Jess rolled his eyes but the corners of his mouth were inching up.

'Right back at ya,' Tristan smirked and continued typing away on the keyboard.

Jess rested back and closed his eyes, letting the tension of the surgery creep out of his body.

* * *

'You know who she is?' Paris asked with what Tristan assumed was accusation.

Tristan gave her an incredulous look. They were at the nurses station and Paris was standing right before him, waving a patient's file before his eyes.

'The stationery supplier?' Tristan asked.

'The patient, dumbass,' Paris rolled her eyes. 'Lana Scott,' she pronounced with an air of awe.

'She is a famous piano player.' Rory stepped in helpfully.

'Are you kidding me?' Paris gave Rory an indignant glare. 'She won the Frederic Chopin Competition three times around.'

'Okay, so she's like the Catwoman of piano players,' Rory elaborated.

'Or Xena.'

'Or Buffy.'

'You get it?' Paris asked Tristan sternly. 'No one wins the Chopin competition three times around.'

'Except if they're Lana Scott,' Rory reasoned.

Paris fixed Tristan with a pointed stare.

'Exactly.'

Tristan observed the two women standing before him with his brows arched in amused confusion. Who could blame him - they were pretty hilarious.

'So, Buffy played the piano huh?'

Paris gave him a once-over.

'You really have no clue how brilliant Lana Scott is, do you?'

'Nope.'

'Were you raised under some rock or something?'

He shrugged, refusing to take on her bias.

'I have my own taste in music, thank you very much. Classical music just doesn't cut it for me and I see nothing wrong with that.'

'I told you,' Paris shook her head at Rory. 'It's no use. His music taste is like Trump's sense of proportion- nonexistent,' she nodded towards Tristan.

'Hey!'

'What?' Paris asked sharply.

'I'm still here,' he pointed out.

'Yeah. Why? You should be with Lana, figuring out how to salvage her genius hands so that I don't get a sudden impulse to cut off yours.'

'Are you for real?' he shook his head, deciding to be amused instead of hurt by their little display.

* * *

'Playing is my life.'

Tristan looked up from Lana Scott's papers to the patient herself. Contrary to the implication of her statement, the woman's eyes were lacking any trace of emotion. He rose an eyebrow but she didn't make any further clarifications. He decided to pick up on the conversation himself.

'Doctor Geller, one of my colleagues, seems to think you're brilliant. She's a chronic overachiever, so coming from her that's rather huge. Just saying.'

The same blank expression colored Lana Scott's face. Not even a hint of pride.

'I've been playing the piano since I was four. For Christmas other kids wanted toys, I wanted a metronome. Later on my classmates went on summer camps. I entered classical music competitions.' She shrugged. 'I did it because I loved it. I never wanted a family the way I wanted my music, so I never had one. And I never regretted it.'

'You never fell in love with someone?' he asked, then thought better of it and smiled apologetically. 'Not my place to ask, sorry.'

Lana didn't seem to care if he was prying or not.

'Music is the love of my life,' she said simply.

'This love may be over. However, your life is still going on.'

'Have you ever lost something you love beyond reason?'

Their eyes met. Tristan's look was somber.

'Yes. Yes I have.'

She nodded thoughtfully.

'What did you do afterwards?'

'Got another love,' he replied, his look warming. 'And made sure I kept it this time.'

They stood in a rather comfortable silence. Then Tristan looked at her iPod.

'Mind if I listen to some piece you've been playing?' he asked.

Lana gave him the player.

A couple of minutes later, he handed it back.

'Wow.' He scratched the back of his head. 'Just... wow.'

Tristan agreed with Paris. The woman was genius at what she did. He didn't know the name of the piece or its composer but the music simply flowed through your ears and grabbed at your chest. And you didn't need to know shit about classical music to figure out the woman was indeed the Buffy of piano players. Everything that lacked in her facial expression was there in the way she played.

* * *

'Hey Crapface,' Tristan greeted cheerfully in the scrub room. 'Still having a blast of a day?'

Jess gave him a scowl.

'Which part of don't fuck with me did you not understand earlier?'

'Ah, the joy of going into a mastectomy with you. That's bromance in the making.'

Jess rolled his eyes and put his surgical mask on. So did Tristan.

'Have you thought what you would do if you couldn't be a surgeon anymore?' Tristan asked.

'Aside from not having to put up with your meek sense of humor? No, not really.'

Jess gave Tristan a look.

'You contemplating a new job?'

'Nah,' Tristan waved a hand and tied his surgical cap at the back of his head. 'I have a patient who has been playing the piano since before she knew how to spell Toublerone. She has bilateral carpal tunnel syndrome and I have to operate on her hands. All she ever knew was playing. And now it may be gone.'

'Sucks.'

'Yeah,' Tristan nodded thoughtfully. 'It does. Plus Paris is a big fan of hers, she's gonna cut my own hands off if I don't make her piano prodigy brand new.'

'Huh.'

For the first time today Jess looked amused.

'Come on, Shredder,' Tristan shoulder passed him, getting into the OR. 'Let's cut some boob.'

* * *

'You forgot to mention something?'

Paris continued flipping through the pages of her patient's file. When she spotted something she'd been looking for, she put a sticky note on the page then continued flipping.

'She's got Asperger's,' Tristan crossed his arms before his chest, sizing Paris up and down.

'She's highly functioning,' Paris said without moving her eyes from her notes. She flipped to another page and continued scribbling.

'You want me to fix this woman's hand and make it better than new, I'd say you better stop undermining my interest in my patients.'

'You done?'

'God, will you at least look at me while we're talking?' he was starting to lose patience. He usually handled attitude well, but Paris Geller's cold shoulder was especially hard to ignore.

Paris continued with her work as if there was no one in the room. She couldn't care less if he were shouting or magically stopped existing.

Tristan took a long breath. He didn't have to bother, did he?

'It won't kill you to be nice to me.'

'It just might.'

'So goddamn stubborn,' he muttered to himself.

With that he left the room, closing the door with a little more force than usual.

As the door closed, Paris let a breath out and dabbed her still wet lashes with the back of her hand. Then she took her mobile out from her white coat's pocket and looked at the screen for the umpteenth time.

 _Is it supposed to be like this?_

 _ **What?**_

 _Sometimes I still miss you._

 _ **I don't know.**_

She could see the small dots still moving.

 _ **But sometimes I still miss you too.**_

A deep sigh of relief she had no idea she'd been keeping escaped her.

She wasn't alone in this. Mourning what they used to have with Doyle. She wasn't alone in this.

They had reached a point where both of them acknowledged what they had was for a reason. And then, they separated. Again for a reason.

Josh was still so young but could depict on the small ways they mishandled their relationship. If they became one of those families who passed on blame, they would never see the end of it. Yeah. There was that. Blame. Disappointment. Doubt. But she was Paris Geller. She was better than that. She could be so much more than the stereotypical workaholic mother. Even though she couldn't stop nostalgia from seeping into their mind every now and then. She could walk some bridges instead of burning them down. Or she would at least try.

* * *

'Okay,' Paris folded her arms before her chest and nodded towards his mobile. 'Show me what you got.'

Tristan's brows arched questioningly.

'Play some music.'

'What?.'

'Play some music. From your phone,' she pronounced clearly, as if she were talking to a child who wasn't very fluent in English.

Tristan shook his head with a smile, getting back to tying the laces of his shoes.

'Look, I appreciate your attempt at fucked up humor but I have to pick Aiden from school so...' he made a meaningful gesture with his hand towards the exit, then stood up and moved to walk out of the lockers room.

'I get bitchy when I'm frustrated,' Paris huffed impatiently. She hated saying sorry. So she didn't. Saying sorry was for losers. But there had to be ways she could handle her abrasive self more gracefully. Even if she didn't say sorry. 'I'm offering a white flag here.'

Tristan stopped at the lockers room door and sighed. He seemed to contemplate her words for a moment, then turned back, taking his mobile out of his jeans back pocket and handing it to her.

He crossed his arms before his chest as she browsed through his playlists.

'Simon and Garfunkel?' she looked up. 'Really?'

Tristan shrugged a shoulder.

'It was the only American CD we had on the base in Turkey. It grew on me.'

Paris gave him a sideways glance. She tried to imagine them, a couple of outlanders in a foreign refugee camp, feeling homesick like hell. Nostalgia made you do that, look for familiar things to hold on to until the tide was over. And sooner or later, it was over. She hoped it would be.

'Bring your A-game with Lana, okay?'

'I always do.'

She held his look and gave back his phone.

'Okay.'

'Okay.'

* * *

 **TBC**


	25. Chapter 25

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine. _

_A/N:_ _ _Happy 2018, everyone!_ Finally (finally!), some Rory/Jess - centered scenes :) Thanks to all who requested more Lit for the story, hope you enjoy :)  
_

 _WARNING: This chapter contains some non-explicit yet rather mature scenes. Feel free to skip if feeling offended._

* * *

'Hey,' Dr Gilmore encircled her boyfriend's scrubs-clad torso from behind.

Dr Mariano put his tray down and turned to put an arm around his girlfriend's shoulders.

She smiled up at him and the smile lit up her whole face. He left a kiss at the top of her head before he spoke.

'How's your 24?'

'Rather slow so far,' Rory shrugged. 'Which left me time to think of ways I'd like to spend these Easter holidays,' she murmured, nuzzling his neck.

Jess groaned, the amusement in his eyes momentarily giving way to annoyance.

'I'm not going there.'

Rory drew back to give him a puzzled look.

'Where?' she asked incredulously, deciding to play the dumb card. Poor Jess was such a cry baby when it came to visiting Stars Hollow.

'You know where,' Jess rolled his eyes, not buying her puzzlement.

'Oh come on,' she rubbed a palm against his abs, leaning into him. 'The Easter Egg Hunt will be fun.'

'Sure it will. I'll just read the blurb in _Fun Is Us_ later on.'

'Oh come on, you should come.'

'Nope.'

'Why?'

He gave her a look. Okay, plan B - cut the groveling, go straight into manipulation.

'What if I'm willing to make it worth it?' she asked slyly.

Jess rose an eyebrow, challenging her to continue.

Nonchalantly, she moved the tray along as the line moved forward and put a plate of fries in it. She thought for a moment and then piled another plate on the tray.

Jess stopped to give her a look.

'Really?'

Rory shrugged, well aware he wasn't referring to her lunch choice but to the potentially luscious offer a minute ago.

Her lips melted into a wicked smile.

'Try me.'

Jess bit the inside of his cheek, looking around. He exhaled through his nose, then looked down at her.

'You're willing to sex bribe me into coming to Freaktown with you?' he asked in a low, excited yet clearly disbelieving voice. She could see the muscles over his jaw twitching. He was struggling to keep his composure. Men were so predictable. She lifted herself on her toes to whisper,

'How much PDA are you ready to handle?' she asked in his ear, brushing her lips against the lobe. 'Because I can start here.'

For a moment he stopped breathing.

Then, lazily, she sneaked a look in the general direction of the break room.

'Then we can move on to there.'

His breath went out in a huff. Yep. She had him right where she wanted.

'Shit.'

He rubbed his hand across his jaw.

'You have to stop saying things like that while we're at work. One of these days I'm gonna cut the wrong gut because I can't concentrate.'

'Are you complaining?' she asked, amused.

'Like hell I am.'

She smirked and gave a nod to no one in particular.

'Good.'

They continued along the line of people. She put some broccoli into his plate and he took a plate of fish and fries for her.

'Wanna do something after work?' she asked as they reached the cash desk.

He gave her a look. She let out a small chuckle.

'Beyond that.'

'Sure,' he shrugged halfheartedly. 'Have something in mind?'

'There's this alternative band playing at **Seven Eight** tonight. Thought we may check it out,' she smiled up at him as both pulled out a bill to pay for their lunch.

'Consider what happens after a demo of what can happen next week,' she chimed, taking the tray and heading for a free table while he was standing holding the bills between his fingers. The cashier lady cleared her throat, giving a pointed look at the growing line behind Jess' back.

He swallowed, snapping back to reality and left the bills on the desk.

Okay. Two could play that game.

* * *

He put both hands on her waist and leaned into her, navigating her until her back was pressed against the column. She tipped her chin up, enjoying the view of his face this close to hers, his eyes intent and searching. He lifted his hands to tangle his fingers into her hair. He loved to dishevel her updo only to let the loose bangs spill free, feeling them tangle between his fingers. He moved forward so that his mouth was a mere inch from hers. She parted her lips, waiting. However, instead of moving further, Jess let a slow smirk spread across his lips and leaned to the side to whisper against her ear.

'You think you're the only one who can tease?' his fingers slid down her nape, tracing her spine. Rory shivered, closing her eyes briefly. His voice was hoarse, indicating he was just as affected by her proximity as she was.

He stepped forward, aligning their bodies together, letting his warmth seep into her. He always felt warm, she thought. And steady. Regardless outside temperature, it was as if he had that inner energy that radiated off of him and onto her.

'Do you have any idea how outstandingly beautiful you look right now?,' he drew an inch back to give her a look, smoothing the hair back from her face. 'Just being around you is intoxicating,' he sighed, 'it annihilates my mind.'

She bit on her lower lip. Was he still teasing? Was this merely a continuation of the game she had initiated? Her mind was getting blurry and all she could see was him. All she could process was feeling wrapped into his presence, his words.

He placed a chaste kiss against her jaw. Then one over her cheekbone.

'The more I get the more I want of you.'

He kissed her forehead. Then the tip of her nose.

'I wanna be the one who lights your face up every day.' His thumbs caressed the sides of her face. His eyes were burning. Or maybe it was her cheeks. She felt breathless yet all she wanted was to be here in this exact moment and live it over and over.

His eyes sparkled with understanding as his look raked over her face. His words were getting to her and he knew it.

'I wanna make you insanely happy.'

'You are,' she breathed, her voice coming out scratchy. 'You're perfect.'

Unconsciously she rose on her tiptoes so that she was closer to his lips. He took a breath and leaned down.

'Later,' he said in her ear and then he was pulling back, leaving her lips waiting.

What. The. Hell.

Rory blinked. Suddenly the details of their surroundings started registering on her senses. The band playing somewhere at the other end of the bar. The darkness of the narrow corridor they were currently standing in. Her erratic heartbeat. Jess was standing a couple of feet away, one arm outstretched, waiting for her. She was torn between slapping the smug smirk off his face and kissing the hell out of him. He was so gonna pay for this. But she had a gut feeling he would enjoy every second of it.

* * *

'Damn,' Tristan watched Jess with an incredulous look that bore a mix of awe and surprise. They were in the common kitchen, Tristan sipping a smoothie as Jess had just come in to prepare some tea.

Jess stopped to give Tristan an annoyed look. Tristan didn't give up.

'You got laid didn't you? You were smiling like a goofball, it makes your face creepy,' he shrugged from his place at the table. 'Damn, it must have been good.'

Jess rolled his eyes and continued making tea, pouring boiling water into his mug.

Tristan slurped some more of the smoothie. Waiting.

And waiting.

'You aren't going to tell me to fuck off?' he asked doubtfully.

'Nope,' Jess said, popping the 'p'. Then took his mug and turned towards Tristan, giving him a smug smirk on his way out.

Tristan leaned over his bottle, eyebrows arched up.

'That good?' he asked, the awe unmistakable in his voice. Leave it to Tristan Dugray to be impressed by other people's sex life.

Jess smirked even wider and gave him the finger right before going out.

Tristan shook his head. That's why guys got girlfriends - it was the free sex that got them to look like smitten goofballs. What more could you want from life?

* * *

'She's 65, works in a ranch, previous history of arterial hypertension and endoscopic holecystectomy six years ago.'

Rory walked beside Jess reading aloud from the patient's file while he put on his white coat over his scrubs. She found him in the lockers room five minutes ago and asked him for help on one of her cases but they were running late for rounds so she was briefing him on the case in stride.

They reached the nurse's station where Jess gathered his patients' files in a pile, casting a look at the surgical schedule every now and then.

'I think it's a cyst. Look,' Rory passed the CT scan of her patient on to him and Jess looked at it, giving her a nod.

'Looks like a cyst. What does the Chief say?'

She sighed and put the CT back into the patient's file.

'He thinks it depends on the surgeon who'll take up on the case. Said it's a rather long shot but could be done with some divine help and hard praying.'

'Always the optimist.'

'What do you think?'

'Resecting a hydatid cyst this big means taking the risk of poking it open and getting your ranch granny straight into anaphylactic shock.'

'Yeah.'

'If it stays there, it's gonna compress the vena cava and block the venous outflow of her abdomen, causing trouble anyway. Sooner or later she'll have to have the surgery.'

He sighed, giving a quick look at the wall clock above them.

'Let me think about it. I'm late, I'll check up with you at lunch, okay?'

'Yeah. Thank you.'

He gave her a wink.

'You can thank me later.'

* * *

'Mrs Stanford, I have to warn you that there is a pretty good chance we might run into a complication,' Rory explained to the elderly woman who was lying on the bed with her grandson by her side.

'What complication?' the young man asked, his voice defiant as he covered his grandmother's hand with his.

'Noah,' the woman tapped his hand with hers, 'Dr Gilmore is doing her best to help me, please watch your tongue dear.'

Noah gave Rory a stern look but when he turned towards his grandmother, his eyes softened.

'I'm just trying to watch out for you, grandma,' he explained, his voice calm and deep. 'The way you've been watching out for me.'

'Then let the doctors do their job, dear. It's the only way to help me.'

Noah worked his jaw but gave a curt nod.

Elizabeth Stanford turned towards Rory and smiled apologetically.

'Please excuse my grandson, doctor,' she said. 'I've raised him since he was six years old and lost his parents. He's very attached to me and sometimes lets his emotions take over him.'

Rory gave them a nod, feeling Noah's doubtful look on her temple.

'What complications?' he asked straightforwardly. No nonsense.

Rory tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. If the cysts pokes open, your grandmother is gonna die. How do you say that?

'Echinococcus cysts grow in the host's body for years, getting larger and larger with time,' she started. 'At first there are no symptoms, but as the cyst gets big enough and starts compressing neighboring structures...'

'Cut the bullshit and answer the damn question,' Noah snapped.

'Noah!' Mrs Stanford gasped. 'I'll ask you to leave the room,' she turned to him, her voice polite but firm. Seemed like it wasn't unusual for them to have this conversation. If the guy lost his parents at the age of six it was no wonder why he would be protective of the only family he had left. However, there was something... unbridled about Noah's demeanor that Rory couldn't place but felt nonetheless.

'Grandma,' Noah turned to Mrs Stanford but she slipped her palm from under his and lifted it to show him the door.

'Noah, I have to ask you to leave the room.' She gave him a pleading look. 'Please.'

There it was, Rory thought. They had been through this, she could tell for sure. She imagined Noah as a troubled teenager, getting into fights, struggling through his loss, at the same time trying to hold on to what he did have left. It couldn't have been easy on either of them.

'We're doing our best for your grandma,' Rory said gently. Noah looked at her and his green eyes were troubled green, the green of a restless sea before a storm. Rory's breath hitched at the weight of this look. It bore so much hope and despair. He didn't say anything as he passed her by on his way out.

When he closed the door after himself Elizabeth Stanford sighed and suddenly looked tired and a couple of years older.

'He was so young when he lost his parents,' she sighed. 'He's still so young. Finished military school two years ago. He always dreamed to enroll in the army but didn't want to leave me alone with the ranch. After my husband passed away four years ago it's been only Noah and me. He lost his parents to malaria. They were tour guides and traveled around Africa. They got ill during one of their trips to Kenya. The doctors did their best but couldn't save them, and Noah never got over it. He lost his fate in medicine. You should've seen him when I had to get my gallbladder removed,' she shook her head. 'He was like a lion in a cage. He's a good boy but he's very protective.'

'Look, Mrs Stanford,' Rory said, 'we're really doing our best. If the surgery could be spared, we would.'

'I know, dear,' Mrs Stanford smiled understandingly. 'It's spilled milk.'

'Sorry?'

'Spilled milk,' she explained. 'That's what my mom used to say when a situation went bad. It's already bad, don't beat yourself up for not being able to make it okay. Do what you need to do. Where do I sign the informed consent papers?'

* * *

'The grandson is giving me chills,' Rory shook her head. They were sitting in a seminar room, discussing the case. There were a couple of more doctors and two scrub nurses, including Helen.

'I suspect he had some serious anger management issues and that's why he'd been sent to military school,' Rory reasoned.

Jess rose an eyebrow.

'I know someone who's been to military school and the only anger management issues I have to deal with around him are my own.'

Helen chuckled. Rory smiled absently.

'This guy is different,' she sighed. 'You didn't see him. There's this... he's got this wild eye thing about him. You don't know what he's gonna do next.'

Jess rubbed his knuckles against his lips, thinking. It had to be an open surgery. A cyst of this proportion couldn't be dissected laparoscopically. If they left it inside her liver, it would continue pressing the patient's vital organs.

He looked up at Rory.

'You trust me?'

'I trust you.'

He gave her a nod.

Then, keeping his eyes on hers, he turned in Helen's direction.

'Helen, call the senior scrub nurse, tell her I need a team for resecting the Alien at Fourth.'

* * *

Her eyes were pooling with tears. He swallowed hard, taking the seat next to her.

'I'm sorry,' he said, his voice gravelly with exhaustion.

She turned to look at him. Her eyes were sparkling.

'I know.'

He held his breath. They'd lost patients before. But this felt different. Elizabeth Stanford's case was the first patient they'd both been so personally involved with. At the back of his mind he was asking himself if Rory would blame him for not being able to save the woman.

Rory put her head to rest on his shoulder, squeezing his arm affectionately .

'I love you. So much.'

He let out a relieved sigh and put a hand around her, combing through her hair with his fingers in slow, calming strokes. She rested further into him and he put a kiss on her forehead. She wasn't blaming him. She was thanking him for being there.

'Come on,' he said in her hair. 'Let's go home.'

They stood up from the bench and started walking through the common waiting area when something in Rory's peripheral vision moved. Something shiny. She turned to see Noah Stanford standing a couple of feet away, holding a gun. The young man's handsome face was pale and grief-stricken, but his eyes were wild. He rose the gun.

'Noah, no!' Rory tried to say but before she could get the words out something smacked onto her, tumbling her down. Jess. There was the sound of a shot, loud and clear, and then everything blurred into muffled screams and voices as her ears zinged with the shrill sound. And then she felt something warm spill down her neck. She tried to move but Jess' weight was squashing her down.

'Jess?' she heard someone say. It must have been her. She wasn't sure. Then, louder, with more apprehension. 'Jess!'

Something warm drizzled down her neck. A sweet metallic scent. Blood.

She tried to shake him but he wouldn't move. Muffled voices blurred around them and suddenly she stopped feeling Jess' weight over her as someone pulled him off her, moving him onto a stretcher. She felt hands supporting her head as she was moved onto a gurney herself. She tried to catch sight of Jess but someone flashed a light into her eyes. She thought she heard the words head shot but couldn't say for sure. Her head was spinning. Her stomach felt sick. The sweet metallic scent filled her nostrils with each labored breath as panic began to strike.

She tried to sit but was pushed back.

'Jess...' she mumbled. 'I have to see Jess...'

She felt something prickle her skin and dizziness started to take over. Everything went black.

* * *

 **TBC**


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: Nothing's mine. Unfortunately. You know, if it was, you'd be watching this onscreen.

* * *

 _I'm floating. Something in the back of my head hurts like hell. I try to move but can't._

 _It's pitch dark. I can vaguely hear anything. M_ _ _uffled sounds of people talking above me._ Maybe I'm underwater. I don't know. Everything comes from a distance. _

_Monitors beeping. A shot flowing into my vein. It's a funny feeling being on the receiving side._

 _A roundabout carousel. My mother took me to one of those when we used to live back in California. I'm riding on it._

 _Shivers start from my head and spread down my chest to settle in my limbs. I'm feeling weaker and weaker._

 _I'm falling off the carousel and into a warm pool of water._

 _I'm exhausted._

 _Wait... I hear a familiar voice. Rory. She's saying my name and it sounds like she's crying, telling someone she has to talk to me._

 _Someone says 'Get her out of here' and I can't hear her voice anymore._

 _I try to get up, to tell her it's okay. I wanna tell her it's okay and she doesn't have to cry but I'm sinking deeper and deeper until I can't hear my own thoughts anymore._

 _I'm under.  
_

* * *

'Do you need something?'

Yeah. A wall to bang my head on. Damn. My head hurts like fuck. I open my eyes. The light is blinding. I'm lying on a OR table. I think. It's cold but I don't feel it the way cold metal against your ass is supposed to feel. I just know it's cold. Whatever.

'He shouldn't have done that,' someone says. A female voice. Gah, my head does hurt. I lift my arm to shade my eyes from the surgical lamp light and try to sit on the table. My head is dizzy and I think I might throw up. I manage a semi-sitting position, leaning on my left arm.

Someone touches my forehead, softly. Mrs Stanford.

'Poor boy,' she says.

O-kay. What is Elizabeth Stanford doing here?

I look around. And the back of my head kills me.

Yep. We're in OR Four. Where I operated on Elizabeth Stanford.

I'm in a hospital gown. Practically naked. Great.

'Ah, shit,' I sigh.

'Are you surprised to see me?' Mrs Stanford asks. She seems reluctantly curious, like she doesn't know what the right etiquette for greeting someone in the afterlife is. Oh well.

I shrug and let my feet hang loose from the OR table. Jeez, my feet feel heavy.

'I'm dreaming,' I shrug and I think the irritation's obvious in my voice. It's hard to show off my people skills when it feels like there is a hole in the back of my head.

Elizabeth Stanford smiles good-naturedly. At least I think she does. When a ranch granny with white hair and thick-lens glasses smiles at you it's supposed to be good-natured. When you failed to resect said granny's human-baby-sized hydatid cyst and the woman subsequently died on you right on this OR table - let's just say you can never be too sure.

'I guess you could say that,' she nods thoughtfully. 'It hurts?' she asks then.

She must see the suspicion in my look because she lifts her hand to point my head.

'Your head,' she says, 'It must hurt.'

I give her another level look and then sigh. What's the point of giving her attitude when I'm probably deeply sedated and my imagination is running wild.

'Like hell,' I admit and hop off the table which gives me a punch of headache that makes me cringe. I pass her by and she turns after me. I

'He shouldn't have done that,'she says and starts walking beside me.

I contemplate the odds of making her leave. How do you get someone off your imagination? Huh.

She catches up with me as I exit the OR.

'Poor boy, he was always so lost.'

'Really?' I snap at her, 'your grandson shoots people and he's the one you're worried about?'

At least she has the decency to look apologetic.

'Sorry.'

Unfortunately, she decides to elaborate.

'It's just that when you love someone this much, you always care, no matter what.'

No wonder why the guy grew up a psychopath, walking around shooting people.

Suddenly I remember something.

'Rory.'

'Sorry, dear?'

I must have said it out loud.

'Rory,' I repeat. 'She was with me. I tried to tackle her down.'

Memories start coming back and a shot of headache comes along.

'I got shot didn't I,' I say dispassionately. I'm not really asking because I start to remember. Noah Stanford, common waiting area, he raises his gun and I cover Rory, trying to shield her to the ground.

'How is she?' I ask and I'm irritated at how desperate my voice sounds.

'She your girl, isn't she?' Elizabeth Stanford asks.

I feel anger bubbling in my chest and I wanna shout at her to answer the goddamn question. I feel my breathing quicken and my pulse speeds up. Somewhere from a distance a monitor starts beeping.

I look around at the exam rooms around us. We've reached the corridor leading to the ER.

I turn to look at Elizabeth Stanford but she's gone. Stupid imagination. I feel the blood racing through my veins and the headache becomes almost unbearable.

Then I feel someone take grip of my arm and another injection shot must be flying into my system because I feel my muscles relax and my pulse slows down. I feel my body being moved. I wanna scream and ask them what the fuck is going on. I wanna wake up and find Rory. But all I do is fall deeper and deeper.

* * *

'It gets a little easier with time. More... familiar.'

Wha... Damn. My whole body feels like mush. I feel like I can grab my forefinger and pull until it starts dangling like a piece of chewed bubblegum. Shit. I try to open my eyes move but it's harder this time. I hear myself groan and my throat is feeling dry, sore.

'Don't rush, handsome. Just ease into it.'

I know this voice.

Shit. _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit._

It's official. I'm dead and I'm in hell.

'Go away, Liz.' I groan.

'Oh come on, son,' she smoothes some hair off my forehead.

I wanna pull away but can't regain control over my body. I'm trapped.

'Liz,' I sigh. 'I'm really not in the mood to deal with you right now.'

'Are you still holding a grudge, Jess?' She manages to sound oblivious and condescending at the same time. Typical.

Maybe if I stay really, really quiet and will her to go away, she will disappear. Yeah. Like that would ever happen.

'I know you went through a tough time back when our places were swapped,' she goes on, 'and I'm only trying to be helpful here. After eight years spent on that hospital bed, I can at least pass on my experience.'

I manage to open my eyes to I see I'm lying on a medical bed in Liz's old hospital room. At this very moment I decide I don't like my imagination. It's creepy. And evil. And has a really tasteless sense of self-irony that I don't appreciate the slightest.

I try to concentrate but it's getting harder and harder to.

I feel like something's slipping my mind. Something important. Rory.

'Oh. Is she someone special?' Liz asks.

I must have said that out loud. But then again, this is my mind. I don't really think I need to say anything out loud for it to be out there.

'You like her, don't you?' Liz prods. Enthusiastic and oblivious, so very her.

I decide to pretend I'm mute. After all, if a comatose patient isn't allowed to, who is?

Then I remember something. What if Liz knows something about Rory? Liz might be a product of my imagination but maybe I subconsciously know what happened to Rory. What if Liz is the clue to that piece of information?

'Is she okay?' I ask. My voice is raspy and talking makes my throat painfully sore.

'You like her,' Liz claps her hands twice and the claps ricochet like slaps in my skull. The pounding headache is coming back any minute now, I can feel it. I try to rise into a sitting position but my muscles feel sore and lifeless and I give up.

'Shit,' I chew on my lip as I feel the initial pounding of the oncoming headache.

'Don't cuss,' Liz chastises absently. 'So, are you in love with her?' she asks then, with the enthusiasm of a kid in a candy shop. 'My little boy is finally growing up,' she gushes. 'I'm so proud of you!'

Then, as if she remembers something,

'Don't break her heart, okay?'

What?. Jeez. Where is this coming from? Whatever. I don't wanna know.

'Where is she?' I ask. Any second now, I fear I might see her walking through that hospital room door, which wouldn't be a good sign. I nurse some hope she's okay because I still haven't met her during my imagination's twisted tour around Deadsville.

'Just listen,' Liz says and looks around.

'He'll come back.'

It's Rory's voice. Close to my ear.

'He'll come back to me, I know it. He will survive this. We will.'

I look at Liz. She's standing above my bed, looking like she's gonna go.

Then I think of something.

'You heard me, all these times I came?' I ask.

Liz smiles.

'Of course I heard you.'

She bends and leaves a kiss over my forehead. I close my eyes and hear Rory's whisper.

'Come back to me. Please come back to me.'

* * *

 _I open my eyes. And see nothing._

* * *

 **TBC**


	27. Chapter 27

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine._

* * *

 **Paris**

Chief Atkinson gave Paris a nod as he approached Jess' room. She was waiting outside, consciously stopping herself from pacing around like a watchdog.

'Geller.'

'Chief.'

He was about to pass her by on his way to Jess' room but she held him by the arm.

He eyed her questioningly and followed her look through the glass window where Rory and Jess were still talking.

'Just five more minutes,' Paris said.

 _Give them five more minutes where their world isn't turned upside down._ Not knowing is hope. Let them have it for a little while more.

Because nothing would be the same once this was out. Once the words were out, it would start to feel real.

A couple of minutes later Dr Paris Geller moved to the side, leaning her back against the wall of Jess' hospital room, refusing to watch as her closest friends received the most painful news in their lives.

* * *

 **Jess**

Rory was holding onto his hand so tightly, he couldn't say if it were more for his benefit or hers. Ever since he woke up, she'd been needing to keep physically close, as if holding onto him was somehow keeping him from disappearing into thin air. He didn't complain. Having her here was a reminder of why being alive was a good thing. But he didn't pretend to match her enthusiasm either. Physically, he was back. Emotionally, he felt more numb than ever.

Two days ago he woke up from, as he was told, a two-week coma. As soon as he opened his eyes he found he wasn't able to see a damn thing. No light. No gradations of darkness. No nothing.

An interdisciplinary team including a neurologist and a neurosurgeon explained that few people survived such severe brain injury. Jess had been shot in the head and the bullet had stayed in his right temporal lobe, near the optic chiasm. The team assigned with Jess' case had a consensus over one fact - being alive after receiving a shot in the head, let alone wake up from the coma well functioning meaning hearing, remembering stuff, being able to move all limbs etc. was a miracle. This miracle was possible due to the fact that his non-dominant temporal lobe was the one housing the bullet. The only thing still missing was his sight. But they were reservedly optimistic. He was a miracle, after all. Lucky him.

They were waiting for the brain edema to subside. The control CT scan confirmed it was. The EEG was also good. Seemed like the only thing preventing him from seeing again was the mechanical compression of the tiny motherfucker that was currently stuck so close to his optic tract.

Rory squeezed his hand. That probably meant someone was finally going to start talking. He heard the Chief clear his throat. He sounded awkward, being the one to deliver the news. Both trying to sound professionally neutral and deliver compassion.

As the words left the Chief's mouth, there was a short moment of numbness where no one dared to move. Then Jess slipped his hand out of Rory's, as if in an attempt to distract himself from this moment.

They were listening. The Chief kept on telling them about the rehab programs and how one could benefit from them. He asked if Jess had attended PTSD therapy. Rory answered no. The Chief said he probably should. Words blurred into a meaningless mush. He wouldn't see again. The bullet was compressing the optic chiasm but trying to remove it from its place would be pure suicide, the chances of surviving another surgery that was so close to the internal carotid artery being practically imaginary. He would have to carry the bullet around, a souvenir from his near-death experience.

Jess stood up and excused himself, managing to get out of the room with just a few bumps into hospital furniture. He needed to breathe.

He felt around for a wall, needing to move, get out of here. He wasn't even sure what floor his room was on. If he would need to use the elevator. Or the stairs. Would he find himself in the basement if he went for the wrong floor? How hadn't he thought about that? He didn't think he'd need to. Stupid, stupid hope. It had dulled his judgement. He had hoped that miraculously this would somehow get better, resolve itself. He had told himself to not be a moron and celebrate being alive. Well, good luck with that.

He imagined everybody stopping midstep to stare. Maybe he still had a hole at the side of his head. At least he had the bandage wrapped around his skull. Like some fucking war hero. He bumped into something that bounced back. He bent to feel around for it's surface. A gurney. He went around it and went on, bumping into a couple of people on his way. He needed to get outside. He felt an overwhelming sense of claustrophobia, trapped in this new world of darkness. He was an unwelcome guest there.

'You need help?' a female voice asked. It sounded clipped, polite and professional. He guessed she was a hospital assistannt. 'You need some help, mister?'

He realized that he would, from now on, constantly need it. Help. For an unimaginable variety of stuff.

'You sure you don't want me to call anyone?' the assistant's voice asked as they stepped outside the hospital building.

He could feel the fresh spring air. He could hear the hospital doors sliding open, then closed. Open and closed. Open and closed. Outside, there was a slight breeze. People passed them by, talking, entering and leaving the building, the volume of their voices changing according to whether they went in or out. Behind him were the doors they'd just passed through. Before him was a world full of the unknown. A world full of invisible dangers, layers of darkness he couldn't unfold. He was reborn and this was a nightmare. Everyone's life was going on. While he was stuck.

'I need to be alone,' he said, his voice dry. His throat still felt sore where the respiratory support tube had been.

Ambulance sirens came and went. The air smelled like spring trees and rain. And the smoke of a cigarette. Someone was smoking, probably a couple of feet from him.

'Have a smoke to spare?' Jess asked in the general direction where he imagined the other person should be.

'Sure.'

A male voice. Probably seventy-something. The voice of a chronic smoker. Jess imagined the puzzlement of the elder guy at the roaming look of a stranger with a bandaged head who asks for a cigarette. _At least I'm not in my hospital gown_ , he thought. The sight of him with his bare ass showing would be too much. There would be that, Jess thought. His own reflection in the bathroom mirror. He wouldn't know if he'd left a patch of scruff while shaving, if he were sporting dark circles under his eyes. He'd never been particularly interested in the way he looked, but now that he'd miss it infinitely... The feeling of something touching his fingers surprised him because he hadn't seen the person putting the cigarette into his hand. He tried to pull it off, pretend he'd just been thinking about something and hadn't for a moment panicked at the unexpected contact, but he supposed this didn't work so well.

He heard the trigger of a lighter and realized he didn't know where to lean to.

He reached out to feel where the man's hand was.

He pulled the first drag and closed his eyes. There was no difference. Open or closed, his eyes were still good for nothing. There was still so much light out there and he could see none of it.

He felt a cry rise in his throat. He choked it down with another puff of smoke.

* * *

 **Rory**

Rory hugged herself and stepped from one foot to the other as she watched Jess stand just outside the entrance sliding doors. After the healthcare assistant had left, he'd been standing there, looking alone and lost.

'Don't,' Paris shook her head. 'Let him have a moment.'

They stood in the hospital foyer, watching as Jess asked some old man for a smoke, the exchange clumsy and awkward.

'We're in different places now,' Rory said thoughtfully, a small smile hovering her lips. 'I'm feeling so lucky because he came back. He, on the other hand, is feeling suffocated by the fact that he's not the way he used to be.' Rory turned to Paris and Rory's eyes were gleaming with tears as she said, 'You see, I would take him any way he came, as long as he came back. And my happiness is hurting him.'

'He needs time to grieve. For what he did lose.'

'He is so proud. And he likes to keep to himself. Adapting to having people constantly assist you will be hell.'

Rory looked ahead, her eyes focused on Jess.

'But if that's what we have to accept to have him back, I wouldn't have him any other way.'

'Everything he ever imagined his life would be has turned upside down, Rory,' Paris said thoughtfully. 'I doubt anyone's support will be enough to compensate for that fact.'

'I'll be there for him.'

Paris looked ahead with a suppressed sigh. Just a little, Rory's optimism was bugging her. Okay, maybe more than a little. If she were in Jess' place, she would want some space, time to hibernate until she was ready to think of the changes this whole situation implicated. So many adverse events ensued. It was just too big of a bite to chew in stride. And Rory was just... _too_ enthusiastic, _too_ oblivious. _Jess isn't me_ , Paris thought. Going through her own life crisis had made her quite cynical, she realized lately. She was at a point where other people's optimism tired her. But this was her, not Jess. Yet, she needed to get this out.

'Just... don't go all cheerleady on him?'

She put it like a question. Rory turned to face her, her face serious.

'No cheerleading,' she nodded. 'Noted.'

Rory's eyes kept the eyelock until Paris, uncharacteristically for herself, broke it first.

'Paris.' Rory addressed her calmly, softly. 'How have you been?'

Paris chewed on her lip and focused on the tips of her shoes before looking straight ahead again.

'Been better,' she shrugged stiffly. 'Regaining my sense of purpose, I guess. I don't have time for major freak-outs, so I try to divide them into smaller ones, preferably organize them into a time when I'm not operating on someone's abdominal aneurysm or reading Josh's bedtime story.'

Practically never. Being a single parent wasn't what they pictured in 20th Century movies.

Rory's hand found Paris' and gave it a squeeze before letting it free again.

'If you need to talk or freak out or whatever... I got your back. You know that right?'

Paris took a sharp intake of air and let it out slowly, careful to keep her face neutral. She wasn't about to bawl her eyes out while both of her best friends were stoically keeping their emotions in check. She was Paris Geller, for God's sake. She was a med bot, she wasn't gonna turn into a pile of goo just because the one man she'd ever loved besides her ex-husband and her three-year old son was diagnosed with permanent blindness. She would get it together and give Rory a noncommittal nod. Checked and checked.

'Thank you,' she managed.

'You're welcome.'

* * *

Jess reached a hand to touch the place just above his right ear. The feeling of the small indentation, with the overlaying skin just slightly notched, welcomed his fingertips. A small trace marking the end of his life the way he used to know it. Like a piece of clothing, this page of his life was discarded. No drum roll, no fanfare warnings. Just like that, it was over.

Steps. Rory. She stopped at the door, as if mustering some courage to step into his space. Because after the shooting there was that, he thought. Personal space. He needed it like air and she did the best she could to grant it to him. Even if that meant tiptoeing around him when he was silent. And he was always silent these days. A month (give or take, he wasn't keeping count of days anymore) had passed since he was discharged from the hospital. The hospital where he used to work. Where he would steer people's fate towards life instead of death, where he had the power to turn life around and answer some of his patients' prayers. Now he was a patient in his own house. Apartment. Whatever.

The door opened, only slightly ajar. If you listened for it, you knew exactly how far open it went. Recently he'd become an expert.

'Hey,' Rory's voice sounded on an exhale. Carefully impassive. She was always careful not to be too emotional, too cheering, too impatient, too anything. Doing her best not to inflict her emotions on him. She was waiting for him to set the pace of their new routine. The thing was, there was no routine. Only shades of being fucked up.

'Hey,' he echoed, careful to not sound too cold. She didn't deserve his misplaced anger.

'Can I come in?'

God, she sounded so timid. He wished he could comfort her, ease all those worries he was sure were piling into her head. Worries about him, mainly.

'Sure.'

She made a few steps and sat next to him, the bed sinking a little under her weight. There was that too. They slept in separate bedrooms now. He had requested it, needing to come up with a daily routine that didn't involve pissing all over himself in front of the love of his life. And being the big boy he was, he managed to get around the occasional bumping into things and feeling around for clean underwear. And she let him, because she saw he needed to figure this out on his own terms and also because he was getting better at serving himself a meal without having to kneel on the kitchen floor feeling for refugee slices of cucumber.

'I need to talk to you,' she said with calculated lightness.

'Rory,' he sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. The weight of all the anger he kept inside, trying to shield her from it, was constantly making him exhausted.

'No, listen,' she put a palm over his hand against the bed cover in an impulsive gesture. Then reluctantly retreated it.

God, he hated that she had to be afraid of him. But there was a good reason for it. They could both feel it. He was raging inside and he was holding on such a thin rope. And she didn't deserve this version of him - this angry, bitter person who needed to vent and to hurt others in order to feel safe. He was grieving for his independence, and he was fierce in this grief.

'I need to say it. You don't have to say anything, you don't even have to listen but I need to get it out okay?' she rambled.

She was sweet, the way she got carried away even at moments when she was trying to be careful. He felt a small pull at the corners of his mouth. Distant and somehow foreign, because smiles hadn't happened for a while and he was still to expect the feeling a real smile over his face. But it was a step into the right direction.

Jess turned towards her and nodded.

'Okay.'

'Okay,' Rory took a breath, bracing herself. 'I know you need your space and I don't wanna push anything but I just need you to know that I'm here and you're not alone in this.' She took another breath, as if she were on a time limit or something, her words rushing one over another. 'I know that you know this but I need it out loud, plain and clear. Because if you have any doubt whether I'm all in, I'm all in. I'm doing whatever it takes to make this better and whenever you decide to get out of this room you've secured yourself in, I'll be right on the other side of that door, waiting for you okay?'

He felt a clutch at his throat and ran a hand through his hair.

'You do this a lot now,' Rory said quietly.

'What?' he asked, his voice raspy.

'That thing with the hand in your hair. You run your fingers along the scar and then to the back of your head. You do it a lot when you're nervous.'

He didn't know what to say. Wasn't sure he was even supposed to say anything, really.

'I'm still here you know?' she asked and her voice was so tiny he thought it might break. 'What happened is the worst thing to ever happen in our lives but you're back and alive and I'm not gonna pretend that this isn't the best thing to ever happen to me.'

He could tell she was crying by the way her voice cracked.

'I'm still here and I'm gonna wait for you for as long as I have to because this is a second chance, Jess. This is a second chance at life and I'm not gonna spare a single effort to make the best of it. Whenever you're ready, I'll be there,' she whispered and placed a soft kiss over his cheek before she stood up and left the room.

At the edge of the bed, Jess stood motionless. He had to find a way to adapt. And as conflicted as it made him feel, he had a nudge exactly what he needed to do. He was only wondering if he was man enough to get through with it.

* * *

 **TBC**


	28. Chapter 28

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine. _**_  
_**

* * *

'I was a good mom. I read him three fairy tales in a row and I thought I was a good mom.'

Tristan folded his arms before his chest. She caught him studying her, like he was trying to gauge her reaction.

'You heard me all those five times when I told you I fixed Josh's arm and he's gonna heal just fine, right?'

She was shaking her head, lost in her own train of thought.

'I'm not a careless mom,' she said defiantly.

Tristan blinked, wondering when he turned out the bad guy here. He sighed.

'I don't know, Paris,' he shook his head after a minute's thought, 'Maybe you left him unattended on the playground. After all, you came back home from a night shift this morning and went straight out with Josh. You were running on pure caffeine today.'

Paris' head snapped.

'What?'

'I've fixed dozens of kids' arms and the explanation their moms gave me was always something like 'I turned for just a second' or 'I have no idea how it happened' meaning it was never their fault,' he shrugged.

'Well guess what, jackass, it really wasn't.'

Tristan rose an eyebrow, not looking convinced.

Paris narrowed her eyes, sizing him. What were the chances she would beat him up if she tried to tackle him? He was one good six feet and she was... miniature. At best. She could be quite intimidating when she got into a verbal fight but as to an actual fist fight... there was a chance he wouldn't even notice she was trying to hit him.

How was this self-proclaimed God's gift to women suddenly inflicting his chauvinistic handling of parenting protocol on her? She had no idea. If only he were a garden gnome, she would be banging his head against the sidewalk, repeatedly. Until his head burst into pieces.

'Now listen, Dr Spok,' Paris fueled up, 'you know that thing kids do when they play in the open instead of getting brainwashed on their tablets - it's called good parenting. So let me give you a myth-buster - I am a good mom.'

If anything, he looked amused.

'Really?'

Paris shoved her forefinger into his chest.

'I am a great mom. The best mom Josh could ever dream of - I'm badass and I'm hardcore and I _rock_!'

'Oh do you now?'

'I rock!' Paris stomped her foot.

Tristan gave her a level look, then smiled.

'That's right, Paris,' he said without a trace of menace or judgement. 'You do.'

She stood dumbfound, watching him expecting him to pull a coin from behind her ear shell.

'You rock,' his smile grew wider and he gave her shoulder a light fist bump.

'I rock,' she chanted after him, spellbound for some unknown reason.

He leaned towards her putting a hand on each of her shoulders, his eyes locking with hers.

'You don't sound very convinced. Come on, Paris.'

'I rock.'

'Gimme your best shout!'

'I ROCK!'

'That's right, Geller, YOU ROCK!' he cheered with her, sounding like some crazy wound-up coach. 'When you're old and grey you better remember this and show some damn appreciation for the mom you got to be. Now get outta my face and go to your boy will ya?' he patted her shoulder and passed her by, shaking his head with a smile.

Paris blinked, not sure what just happened. Did Tristan Dugray just give her the pep talk?

A door to her right opened and Helen peeked out, looking around.

'Was someone just shouting out here?'

Paris gave her a weird look.

Helen shrugged, putting her hands up in defense, knowing when not to investigate any further.

'Just asking.'

* * *

'Okay, buddy,' Paris dropped the bags down and crouched before Josh to undo his shoes. His left arm was bent in the elbow, covered in a cast hanging off his neck. 'How does your arm feel?'

'It hurts a little,' Josh said with a shrug. 'I wanna take this off,' he motioned towards the cast with his right arm.

Paris took his shoes off and her eyes roamed the room, pausing on her anatomy atlas.

'You wanna do something super weird and super cool?'

Josh's eyes lit up.

'Yeah!'

'You wanna draw some real bones on your cast?'

'Yeah!'

'Let's do this, kid.'

'You're the best, mom!' Josh elated, hurrying to take his seat on the sofa.

Paris took the atlas from the bookshelf and gave Josh a loving look. In the rare times she managed to let go of the enormous burden of being an ambitious woman, a mother and a doctor, she felt an overwhelming pride.

Josh was excited by skeletal anatomy. He was Paris Geller's son, after all. Oh well.

* * *

'So,' Rory said with emphasized enthusiasm as she entered the break room, 'I have the worst book hangover.'

Paris turned to give her friend a sizing look and arched an eyebrow above her steaming tripple espresso. Helen put the book she'd been reading down and gave Rory a look too.

'If you're wondering what we're doing in the break room with our civilian clothes on, we're ambushing you,' Helen delivered.

'Oh,' Rory took a tangerine out of the plate on the break room table and started to peel. 'Good job.'

Paris left her coffee on the table with an audible thud and folded her arms before her chest.

'Okay, am I the only one seeing the pink elephant in the room?'

'..'

Okay, so she wasn't telling.

'So it's bad,' Paris concluded.

'I don't know what you're talking about,' Rory shrugged nonchalantly, finishing the tangerine and gathering the peels to put into the bin.

'You look like a train ran over you,' Paris delivered right back.

'And then put on reverse to make sure you were properly splayed over the rails,' Helen added helpfully.

'Dude,' Rory turned toward Paris, then toward Helen, 'Dude.'

Both Paris and Helen blinked expectantly.

'Dudes,' Rory shook her head, 'don't you get a hint?'

Neither Paris, nor Helen gave a sign they did.

Rory sighed.

'Drop it.'

'No,' Paris shook her head.

'Nope,' Helen shook her head too. 'You're obviously in some deep need of an intervention.'

'You're experts on interventions now?' Rory asked, her agitation starting to show.

'Dude,' Paris said seriously, 'you're eating a tangerine. You're in need of an intervention. Come on,' she finished her espresso in a gulp and rinsed her cup in the sink. 'Get your stuff and let's move.'

'Ehm, move where?' Rory asked.

'We're having a girls' night out,' Helen explained, putting her book into her bag.

'Meaning we're getting you drunk,' Paris clarified. 'We better hurry - we have about two hours, the nanny's leaving at ten.'

* * *

Paris staggered out of the locker room, feeling for the wall. She all but tripped over something on the floor. The thing moved and expanded before her.

'Tristan?'

Paris squinted, trying to figure out why Tristan had been sitting on the floor in front of the locker room.

'You drunk?' he narrowed his eyes in disbelief.

Right. As they left the bar near the hospital after the girls' night out she realized she'd left her mobile in her locker earlier so she'd told the girls to catch a cab without her and she came back for her mobile. Tristan must've been waiting for her in order to change and get his stuff from his locker.

'Not really,' she mumbled, feeling a giggle rumble in her chest. 'Well, maybe a little.'

Wow. She must be kind of plastered if her own voice sounded like that.

'Booze is overrated,' she sighed as a conclusion.

She tried to sidestep him but the corridor spun and she halted, waiting for her balance to come back.

'I'll sit here... just for a while,' she informed and felt for the wall.

As she slid down to the floor she closed her eyes against the blur. Everything was such a blur.

'Come on,' she heard a male voice somewhere above her. She opened her eyes, not sure where she was. She saw an outstretched hand and took it. The hand pulled her up into a standing position. Her knees were wobbly but she was steady enough to stand. At least she thought so.

'Oh hey Tristan,' she greeted. Ha, her voice sounded slurry. Why was her voice slurry? And why did she reek of alcohol?

She thought she heard him sigh and say something like 'Let's get you outta here.' She wasn't sure.

'Josh,' she said. 'I have to go home to Josh, the nanny's leaving at ten.'

* * *

'You have a kid.' Paris informed him as Tristan started the engine.

'Yeah,' he affirmed absently, turning his head as he backed his Audi out of the hospital's parking lot.

'Whoa.' Then, after a minute's thought. 'How?'

'Well, when two adults like each other a lot, and by like I mean wanna jump each other's bones...' he started with a smartass smirk.

'None of my business, I get it. No need for the Mary Poppins talk.'

He turned to give her a brief look.

'I said okay,' she put her hands up, palms out. 'I'm okay with privacy even if no one gives me credit for it.'

Paris closed her eyes, sinking further into the passenger seat.

'I still can't believe it,' she mumbled, feeling about to doze off.

'That I have a kid?'

'That you listen to _Simon and Garfunkel_.'

The corners of his mouth moved up.

'I'm drunk,' Paris informed thoughtfully, opening her eyes to look out of the passenger window.

Her eyes drunk the night road in, the motion in the dark making the whole experience somewhat surreal.

'I think Rory and Jess are having big trouble,' she said sadly. Then giggled. 'And you have a dimple,' she closed her eyes and dozed off.

* * *

 **TBC**


	29. Chapter 29

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine. Lyrics quoted in this chapter belong to Vancouver Sleep Clinic and aren't mine by any means._

* * *

 _'_ _Letting mist dissolve the light_  
 _The darkness oh it burns so bright_  
 _I'm turning blind'_

'Rory...' his voice came out in a ragged breath.

'Yeah,' she echoed, concentrating on the feel of his skin against her lips. She had taken matters into her own hands. After two months of tiptoeing around him, she decided it was about damn time to try and reach out to him. Every sweet spot, every ticklish place, she knew his body like Braille, and she was determined to use this knowledge, starting with skittish caress, chaste kiss and then - when she couldn't keep away anymore - pulling him into her, letting the feel of him consume her, pouring two months of missing him into action. His labored breathing told her he was affected, maybe as affected as she was. God, she'd missed him.

'Ror...'

'Shush,' she smiled into the crook of his neck, moving down his throat, letting her palms slide under the unbuttoned ends of his shirt.

Under her palms his chest expanded with another deep inhale, his heart drumming a rapid rhythm against his ribs.

'I need you to leave.'

She paused, resting her forehead against his chin, trying to catch her breath.

'What?'

'I need you to go.'

She pulled back an inch, slowly sobering.

'What the hell, Jess?'

His face was a strange mix of anguish and determination.

'I... can't do this.'

'What do you mean?'

'I mean this,' he gestured between them, taking a step back, running his fingers through the hair above his right ear. His scar. It ran so much deeper than his skin.

He chewed on the inside of his lip before letting out another deep exhale.

'Us. I thought I owed you to at least try, thought maybe what the hell I could do it, but I can't. I just... can't.'

He'd been thinking about this, an alarm rose at the back of her mind. He wasn't just discovering this, he'd been piling it up until he couldn't hold it in anymore.

His eyes were fixed somewhere down, somewhere he knew they wouldn't cross her look. He rubbed a palm against his mouth, down his jaw. As if trying to wipe her kiss away. He was trying to cop out.

'It feels like a fucking lie,' he said finally, his hands folding into fists by his side.

Rory narrowed her eyes, trying to read him.

'You don't mean this.'

He rose his head, his face wrapped up in a stoic expression, his jaw tight, eyes set somewhere at the level of hers, where he remembered they were.

'You're the best thing to ever happen to me.'

'Oh,' she shook her head with a humorless laugh. 'Oh-oh-oh...'

'And what happened...' he smiled a small self-deprecating smile, 'a man is only as big as his insecurities. And I'm not bigger than what happened. I thought maybe I could rise above. But I can't. I'm full of shit and I'm gonna ruin whatever there is between us. And I...' he paused to pull in a quick breath. His voice was an inch away from cracking. This was the closest she'd seen him to crying. 'I don't wanna hate you.'

He wetted his lips, regaining his composure.

'We need to do this now before I start hating you for sticking with me after what happened.'

'What happened?' she challenged, stressing the 'what'.

He sighed, running a hand through the hair above his right ear again. This was costing him a lot of effort, having this conversation. But he owed her at least that much, didn't he?

'I tried to think of what I'm gonna do for a living given I'm not about to start seeing again,' he started quietly, barely above a whisper. This was something he hadn't said out loud and voicing it made it all the more real. She could see the struggle over his face, his jaw tensing while he was seemingly giving the thought a last try, looking for another solution to this impossible situation, the muscles working hard until suddenly his face fell. His voice was calmer when he spoke again, resigned.

'The prospects aren't great. And I don't only mean medicine. Have you ever tried taking a piss blindfolded? Every minor thing is giving me shit and I don't think a couple of months from now I'll be the same person. I'll get used to going through another day but it will still be a pathetic scene. I'm getting bitter, Ror. It's already happening. I know you can see it. And if you stay I'll start hurting you, I'll hate myself for letting you stay and ultimately I'll start hating you too. I'll hate you for staying and I won't be able to stop it because you'll be a constant reminder of the life we could've had.'

The life I could've given you.

'You don't know that.'

'I know me.'

'This is such bullshit, Jess,' she huffed, angrily wiping a tear. A tear he couldn't see, she thought at the back of her mind. This sucked beyond description.

'Well, that's what I am now, Rory. I'm full of shit.'

'Please don't do this. Don't push me away.'

He let out a hardly audible sigh.

'I'm sorry.'

'No you're not. You're designing your own ruin and I... God, I can't believe you put us down to this. You're using me as a means to punish yourself and I...' she shook her head helplessly, 'I hate this, Jess.'

'Feels right though.'

'Bullshit! You know what's right? You and me is right - you and me against all odds, because Paris is right - we're a goddamn Phil Collins song!'

She was pacing to and fro, frustration filling her more with each next step.

'We were right for each other from the very moment we met and that's all we've been ever since. Even when there was a desperate maniac pointing a gun at us, or when you lost your mother, or when everything fucked up all over again and I went bananas about not being fit to be the mother of your unconceived children, there was not a single time when we weren't right for each other. That's what's right. Shit happens but we stay together. That's what's right and don't you dare deny it.'

She paused to take a breath in, feeling her whole body shake with emotion. Rage, fear, hope, despair. She was so high strung, she expected to tear apart any second now.

His face remained blank, but she knew him well enough to tell he was putting all of his effort in keeping it so. _Stoically_ blank. Because this was his thing. But stoically brooding wasn't gonna cut it this time.

'Don't,' she pleaded, and her voice sounded so small and desperate, she hated the sound of it.

His palms were balled up into tight fists with his knuckles white, trying to keep him locked into a decision he was still coming to terms with. He was trying to let her go for her own good. Trying to do the right thing. But he was doing it so wrong.

Yet she could see the reasoning behind his actions. It would make her a hypocrite to deny it. Because she did try to get through a day blindfolded. And she got as far as thirty minutes. She thought it had been longer. She could swear it was. But when she looked at her watch she saw it had hardly been thirty-six minutes. She had cried for the first time after he woke up that day.

'Will I still see you?' she asked.

The look in his eyes was the most helpless she'd ever seen anyone seem. She knew there was a bitter comment he held back. She knew letting her go was the last thing he wanted to do. God, she felt helpless too.

'Are you so lost you don't even recognize what's actually important? Jeez. Call me when you put your act together.'

She stormed out of the room and not two seconds later stormed back in, her breathing still ragged.

'You know how you never payed attention to some things you took for granted, like the sun shining or your heart beating?'

Or your eyes seeing. Of course he knew.

'You will miss me like air,' she paused, feeling her voice crack, breathing in and out a couple of times trying to regain her composure.

Like images in a scrapbook, she remembered lazy mornings when he would kiss each of her knuckles - one by one, he would touch his lips to the back of her fingers simply praising her presence. Or they would spoon on the king size bed, finally home after a night shift and he would cup her chin, turning her head towards him, seeking contact just because he couldn't stay to be away from her.

'When you realize we're not over, I'll be there... I'm still your technicolor, Jess Mariano.'

She stood for another moment, watching him. She felt her hands shaking, her heart hammering wildly. A black curtain was falling before her eyes.

This isn't over, a tiny voice whispered in her head.

She refused to give in to breakdown. Because fuck tragedy. Fuck breakdown. Fuck giving up. They were bigger than this, she thought. Rory and Jess. Jess and Rory. They were endgame and that was that.

So she shook her head and left the room before her resolve broke down.

* * *

 _'The oceans that we couldn't cross_  
 _The London Bridge is caving in_  
 _Cities melt into my skin_  
 _It's looking thin'_

* * *

 **TBC**


	30. Chapter 30

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine._

* * *

'How old is she?'

'Ninety-two.'

The look the Chief gave Rory was sympathetic.

'Why not let her go?'

Rory's mouth set to the side and she folded her arms before her chest, locked into a stubborn stance.

'She's not ready yet.'

'Gilmore, you've been working hard this whole month. Why not take some time to-'

'No,' Rory shook her head with clipped politeness.

'Maybe you could use a week,' the Chief pondered, then gave her a look. 'Or two.'

'I'd rather not.'

'You never took some time after the accident,' the Chief pressed.

'With all my respect sir, what happened wasn't an accident. Being shot at isn't an accident. Taking away someone's life isn't an accident. And if you excuse me, I have a patient who's counting on me to save hers.'

* * *

'Why are you so hell-bent on saving her?' Tristan groaned as he looked at the patient's labs. 'She's ancient.'

'Why does everyone keep saying that?'

'Because it's the truth I guess,' Tristan shrugged.

'Forget it.'

He gave the patient's file back to Rory.

'Maybe there is a chance how you may help her.'

She looked up, hopeful.

'Yeah?'

He smirked.

'Go to church. Pray for her.'

'You know what? Screw you, Tristan.'

'No. Really.' He stepped to the side, blocking her way, seeming more serious. 'Why not let her go?'

Because everything is slipping away. Because someone had to hold onto something.

'Because she's not ready, okay? Because she deserves someone who'll take a chance on her. I'll do the impossible but she will get her chance. If that's okay with you,' she ended her tirade, pressing her index finger against his chest, fixing him with a pointed stare.

Tristan took a step back, raising both hands in surrender.

'O-kay.'

She shook her head with a sigh.

'Just forget it Tristan.'

She left the room feeling his look on her nape.

* * *

'She's an antique,' Paris huffed.

'Really. You too. _Brutus_.'

Paris gave her a 'no shit?' look.

Rory rolled her eyes.

'Am I the only one around here who actually meant their Hippocratic Oath? Ill patient' - she lifted the patient's file in one hand and then gestured between her and Paris - 'Doctors. Is the math that complicated?'

'Nah. I mean, if you have a magician, it's no worry.'

'Have you always been so cynical or is it just me?'

'It's just you. I'm kidding. Look, I'm not cynical - I'm realistically cynical. There's a substantial difference.'

'Like hell there is,' Rory folded her arms before her chest.

Paris narrowed her eyes, thinking.

'Is this about Jess?'

'What?.'

Paris' look flashed knowingly.

'You think you can save him, don't you?'

'How exactly did we get from my patient to Jess?'

'Ah, let me see,' Paris tapped her chin faking hard thinking. 'You're trying to solve an impossible case, save your patient, prove pink unicorns exist et cetera - yeah, you're clearly projecting.'

'Clearly.'

'So, trying to save Jess, eh?'

'Save him. Sure. From what?'

'Oh you know, that dark path of isolation and angry self-pity,' Paris shrugged, observing Rory's reaction.

Rory's lips were pressed into a tight white line.

'You are getting over yourself here,' Rory said coldly, warningly.

Paris gave her friend a look and shook her head slowly, her expression turning more serious and a little sad.

'That's the thing. I don't think that I am.'

Rory's teeth had sunk into the inside of her cheeks.

Paris sighed.

'If you make what happened about you and take it upon yourself to save him, you'll be lying to both of you.'

Rory's lips were turning white. Paris took Rory's face between both palms to turn her so they were facing each other.

'Spill.'

'It's been a month, Paris,' Rory said at last.

Paris' eyes flashed with understanding. She stepped back and ran a hand through her short hair, thinking.

A month. Rory had been waiting for Jess to miss her bad enough to ask her to come back. He hadn't.

'You don't believe he meant it when he said he couldn't do this. You're trying to beat around the bush to prove him wrong.'

Rory didn't say anything to agree or disagree.

'Look, I'm not trying to be nasty. But you should take what he told you more seriously, or you're gonna get yourself heartbroken.'

'You think I'm not?' Rory let out a derisive laugh. 'You think there's anything left to save from me if we don't find a way around this?'

Rory was shaking her head, her eyes glistening with emotion.

'He's it for me, Paris. He's that Earth shattering heart twisting person who made it completely under my skin, I'm no longer alone in there. And I know how cliche this is but guess what - being madly in love is a cliche and I don't mind falling into cliche as soon as I get him back. I want him back. I want him to want me back. Why doesn't he want me back?'

Paris opened her mouth to say it was more complicated than that but kept it in. Both of them knew it well enough, there was no need to point the obvious.

Rory took a breath and looked at Paris.

'Do you really think I'll just accept what happened and move on?'

Paris shrugged grimly.

'Maybe not. But you can't save him either. He has to save himself. He has to save himself or he'll never forgive you.'

'Forgive me?' Rory threw her hands in the air. 'Really. I am in love with him, for God's sake, why is caring about him something to be forgiven?'

'Because you give him hope in a hopeless situation and that hurts.'

'My love hurts him. Finally someone who makes sense.'

'Love comes with expectations.'

Rory was shaking her head, refusing to get her friend's twisted logic.

'What expectations?'

'His own. When you love someone you have expectations about how happy you want them to be. If he believes he can't be the man who makes you happy he does the next best thing.'

'Which is?'

'He lets you go.'

'Are you on dope?'

'You don't get it do you,' Paris shook her head. 'You'll always have your mom. Your grandparents. Stars Hollow.'

'You're on dope.'

'You have people who care about you because caring about you is part of their job. Because you have roots and Jess has none. His whole life, he's been on his own. No one to lean on. No one to care he existed. He was always on his own until he met you. And then made an exception, letting you in. But it was at a time when he thought he could give you the life you deserve. Now he doesn't feel equal. And he'll feel scared. And angry.'

'How do you know?'

Paris waved her hand impatiently.

'I know. When you don't have a single person to call family you feel like papier mache. You pretend to be like anybody else, but you feel hollow on the inside. You're always afraid that if you crack open everyone will see how empty you are on the inside. It's not something you choose, it just is. You feel the need to deserve the love of the people you care about, because no one ever taught you that loving you should come naturally as a given.'

'You know doing drugs is bad for you right?'

'This is about him, it's not about you.'

Sure. Because your boyfriend breaking up with you is never about you.

'You watched that movie - _Frank_ , where Michael Fassbender plays a guy with a giant papier mache head? Where he can only feel good about himself when he has the head on and once it's off he just feels...' Paris made an indefinite gesture with her hand. 'Jess has his papier mache head off.'

'A bad, bad thing,' Rory said grimly.

'I'm not doing drugs, Rory.'

'Yeah,' Rory nodded with a small sad smile. 'I know.'

She just needed a distraction or she was gonna explode.

'Go get some rest okay? I'll look at your antediluvian patient's file and see if I can think of something.'

* * *

 **TBC**


	31. Chapter 31

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine._

* * *

 _It's just a stupid bunch of patient's files. It's not like they asked me to deliver them personally. He might not even be here. I'll just drop them in his office and then it's over. Right. Let's get this over with._

She opened the door to his office cautiously, almost expecting a SWAT team to jump her any second.

 _What if he's not alone?_

God, how had she not thought of this scenario sooner?

 _This is absurd. I'm so overdoing this_ , she shook her head. _This man used to be my home, I shouldn't be acting weird around him. Except now, he isn't. He gave it up._

She knocked on the door softly, mentally chastising herself for being so timid. This was the first chance for a direct encounter since they broke up. If you could put it like this. Because, honestly? It was him who broke things up and left her behind, moving on. His new supposedly sad life. Sightless. Roryless.

 _Damn._

When she first heard the Chief asked Jess to become a consultant she didn't know what to think. She was afraid this was some attempt to reemploy him as some form of compensation, pity job for not being able to be a surgeon anymore. She was wrong. Jess couldn't be a surgeon anymore, but he still was a doctor. One hell of a good one. Because you didn't need to use your eyes in order to use your brain, right? She felt a strange pang of guilt the first time she heard how well Jess' new job was actually going. Because her initial reaction was to underestimate him, think he would only meet disappointment if trying to hold on to his passion for medicine. She was ultimately glad she had been wrong, but felt guilty anyway.

Soon many colleagues turned to him for advice when they met a dead end with some of their cases. Like a writer's block, doctors often felt stuck with some case and needed a fresh perspective. Rory heard from Paris that last month the Chief had installed special software for the visually impaired on some of the hospital's computers so that the labs and patient's files became accessible. There was such software installed on the hospital's library too. It felt strange. Witnessing such major changes in Jess' life from afar. She had been waiting for him to contact her. He hadn't.

Rory shook her head and opened the door to his office, moving on to his desk to leave the files. The irony wasn't lost on her. The files weren't entered into the hospital's computer system yet and were meant for Jess, but someone else would read them for him. So why bother leave him the files personally? She could've exchanged them for a bunch of _Mooncop_ comics and he wouldn't know.

'I heard you've been saving old ladies.'

Rory jumped up, the patient's files slipping out of her hands, scattering over his desk and onto the floor. She turned to the side, finding him next to the kitchen island area, nursing a glass of water. There was a smirk on his lips. He was obviously amused by her startled reaction.

His jaw was clean-shaven. _No cuts._ He must've used the electric shaver she got him last year. His eyes were directed in her general direction but something was different. He was pulling it off, yet...

'I, ehm...' she paused, looking for a nonchalant way to ensure her escape as quick as possible. 'Peterson wanted me to deliver some patient's files... They're on your desk. Actually, most of them scattered on the floor... Oh whatever.'

She looked around, feeling flustered.

'I'll just...' she moved to gather the files, putting them put back on his desk. 'Here,' she let out an exasperated breath, 'All sorted out now.'

'You know I can't read them, right?' he asked and she felt a jolt of surprise at the lack of venom in his voice. She turned to give him a look and he was simply staying there, holding his glass of water nonchalantly, as if their lives hadn't been turned upside down three months ago. She would've expected him to be bitter about not being able to read the files. If not bitter, at least sarcastic. If not else, she expected him to at least be more... _affected_ by meeting her after a whole month of no contact at all. He was neither.

'Yeah,' she stepped from foot to foot. 'I was wondering why Peterson wanted me to deliver them personally when you couldn't read them anyway...' she stopped abruptly, realizing what she was saying. 'Sorry.'

When she looked up at him again, he was smiling. God, his smile. For a moment she could swear she melted into a puddle on the floor. She was such a paper tiger when it came to him, it was pathetic.

Then another thought hit her. The ease with which he'd said it. He'd just admitted he couldn't read the files and there wasn't a muscle over his face that betrayed his bitterness. Could he be coming to terms with his blindness? If so, was it easier once she wasn't around? She had automatically assumed he had been suffering the same slow torture she was. He had all but promised her he was turning bitter and she had somehow prepared herself for this. However, she wasn't prepared for profoundly wise and sorted out Jess. Wise Jess turned everything inside her upside down. How had she never thought that letting her go could actually benefit him in any way? God.

She felt sick. It had been only a month without her and he was already doing better. The thought wrecked a havoc in her head.

'I gotta get going,' she mumbled, heading for the door, feeling her feet awkwardly stiff. She didn't turn back to look at him as she all but ran out of his office, leaning back against the door as she closed it behind her, asking herself why the hell she felt so betrayed.

* * *

'Hey.'

Paris looked up at Tristan Dugray's beaming smile and continued doing her patient's labs.

A minute passed. And another.

'You're still here,' Paris noted.

'I've been trying to talk to you,' Tristan said, leaning over the nurse's station counter.

'Well I've been trying not to. Now go away, your hovering over me is distractingly creepy.'

'Why aren't you answering my texts?'

'Are you really asking,' Paris rose an eyebrow and closed her patient's file noisily, starting to walk in the general direction of the OR.

Tristan caught up with her.

'I wanna see you.'

Paris stopped abruptly and looked up at him.

'You just did. Now leave me alone.'

'Go out with me.'

'No.'

'Why?'

'I have a long list but I don't wanna grow old here citing it.'

'Why do you keep avoiding me?'

'Because I don't wanna see you.'

'I don't believe you.'

'That's because you're conceited.'

'For a good reason.'

'Dr Geller?' Helen's head peejed from one of the ER rooms.

'Saved by the nurse,' Paris said with a clipped smile and left Tristan to stare at her back.

* * *

'Do you and Tristan have a thing or something?' Rory caught up with Paris as they lined up in the cafeteria.

'Eh?'

'You don't still have a crush on him... do you?'

Paris looked lost for a moment. Then her expression lit up with understanding.

'Oh, you mean a crush like a romantic thing? Nah, having a crush on Tristan Dugray is like having a crush on Justin Timberlake. It's only great in your head. It's not real.'

'So you don't like him,' Rory probed, doubtful.

Both of them payed for their coffees and headed for a table.

'Where is this coming from again?' Paris asked.

Rory shrugged, inspecting her friend closely as she took a seat at an empty table.

'I've seen you two talking lately. Sometimes you let him talk back. It has to mean something.'

Paris stopped for a moment as if considering the idea, then sat down too.

'He's a little weird but he's okay to work with. Has the music taste of a retired accountant and provides all kinds of comic relief, especially if your gag reflex is underdeveloped when he starts discussing women. Seriously, all that women's rights saga and that's where we are?'

'Weird?' Rory narrowed her eyes, ignoring most of Paris' ramble.

'Yeah.' Paris narrowed her eyes. 'Why are you looking at me like that?'

'You realize you're you and if you define someone as weird this must be worth something, right?'

'Hey, what are you implying?'

'Well, you need to elaborate. Wear his underwear on his head kind of weird?'

'What?. No.'

'Enjoys killing cute bunnies kind of weird?'

'Ehm, no.'

'Talks dirty in his sleep kind of weird?'

'No.'

'How would you know?' Rory chuckled, remembering a similar conversation with Tristan a couple of months ago.

Paris didn't reply.

Rory studied her face.

'You do know.'

Paris shrugged, studying her nails.

'Damn.' Rory shook her head, still adapting to the idea. 'Really?'

'It was a one-time thing. I was in post-divorce single parenting crisis, Josh had just broken his arm and the love of your life who happens to be my best friend was diagnosed permanently blind,' Paris blurted. Had she rehearsed this?

'When?' Rory pressed, still adapting to the new piece of information. Paris hooking up with Tristan. Wow. For Tristan it didn't come as a shocker but Paris... Paris was something else.

'We'd been drinking on a girls' night out because you needed an emergency intervention. Don't look at me like that, you were eating a tangerine for God's sake! Anyway, I came back to my locker to grab my phone, Tristan had just ended his shift and he gave me a lift from the hospital.'

'And?'

'And his drool-worthy body did the talking, end of story.'

'You sure?'

'Of course I'm sure. I know a good body when I see one. The eight-pack? All there, all real.'

'I meant the friends with benefits part.'

'I told you, it was a one-time thing. We're friends... Ish. No benefits. Anyway, a one time benefit. Whatever.'

'What about Tristan?'

'What about him?'

'Does he know it was a one time thing?'

'Believe me, I told him. Repeatedly.'

As far as Tristan was concerned, her official version of that night was she was too drunk to remember anything.

Truth be told, she had been quite plastered.

But she wasn't _that_ plastered.

She remembered he parked the Audi in front of her block of flats and helped her climb the three floors to her apartment, then fished her keys out of her wallet and handled the nanny talk with some chosen charmer quotes in a (even Paris Geller had to admit) rather graceful way. Josh was already asleep. As the nanny left, Tristan prepared to leave too, his parting words involving the mention of aspirin.

By the time he was at the door Paris was weeping something about the lack of a silver lining and being a terrible mom, getting drunk over her friends' problems and coming home an hour after nanny curfew. Tristan must've tried to say something vaguely supportive. Then somehow they were sitting on the couch with her all over him, kind of molesting him. At first he was in shock (literally and metaphorically). He most probably had asked her what she was doing, like asked her in actual words. When she didn't stop doing it Tristan went from hesitant to progressively decided. As his reputation served him, he wasn't a guy who had to be asked twice. Or trice, in their case. Or... whatever. Blame it on the alcohol.

As a lover Tristan Dugray was quite different from what she'd expect. Not that Paris had particularly thought about it. Yet, she had that image of the superfluous macho figure, silly jock with rushing needs, impulsive greedy hands taking all that was on the table. Tristan Dugray (shockingly) was nothing near that image. His moves were languid and determined, his patience streaming with confidence. Slow and unrushed, somehow his act seemed so put together she'd found herself surprised that he wasn't all for the final release. He had the genuine skill and patience to cherish the whole process of getting there. The truth was Tristan liked physical contact. It was his thing. He was in his element that night and she found herself strangely enthralled by the way he wasn't simply a consumer, but one hell of a giver. The rest was history. History that Tristan insisted on reminding her every time their paths crossed in the scrub room or elsewhere but oh well. Paris took some sick pleasure in watching the former King of Chilton slash Master of all Harems squirm, trying to convince a woman of their mutual impressive escapades. Fate had a strange way to deliver its irony. However, a tiny voice at the back of her mind whispered that it felt good not to feel alone. Made it more bearable to be okay with not being okay.

'Maybe you should consider doing it again,' Rory's voice tore Paris from her thoughts and her head snapped up.

'What?.'

'Dating,' Rory elaborated.

'Date Tristan?'

'I meant date in general, but if you think Tristan may provide some action, why not?'

'Yuk. I have enough stuff scheduled on my adventure calendar and these days hanging around the STD ward isn't as compelling as it used to be. So thanks but no thanks.'

'Just saying,' Rory shrugged, leaving it alone. She knew better than to press on.

* * *

'You're not gonna like this one,' Paris said entering Rory's living room carrying the mail.

Rory lifted her head from her laptop.

'What is it?'

Paris handed her the envelope.

Rory stared at it with an unreadable expression and opened it with meticulous precision, careful not to ruffle the ends.

As she took the sheet of paper out of the envelope, her eyes glued to the head text.

The document was a summons for a court hearing. There were proceedings of an ongoing lawsuit against Noah Stanford and Rory was summoned as a witness.

After a significant amount of time Rory drew her eyes away from the papers.

'I'm gonna need you there,' she looked up at Paris.

* * *

'You sure the nanny is okay with staying with Josh for a couple more hours?' Rory asked Paris as they entered her apartment a week later, both wearing formal dress suits.

'Ask me another time and I'm gonna go spend those hours away from your irritating self, living on the edge, doing the unthinkable.'

Rory kicked her heels to the side and went to take a glass of water from the kitchen counter.

'And what would that crazy venture comprise?' Rory asked from the kitchen.

Paris kicked her own shoes in the corridor and joined Rory in the kitchen, searching the cabinets for dried papaya and letting out a triumphant 'Aha!' as she found the stashed package. She knew Rory kept a regular supply for moments like this one.

'Ah, going to the mall and buying tickets for some utopian musical,' she shrugged, digging into the package and popping a dried papaya into her mouth.

From the corner of her eye Paris watched Rory sip on her water. Paris Geller was observant as a hawk. And she knew things were far from okay. Today had been the court hearing concerning the shooting. Noah Stanford had made a full confession, thus sparig Rory from the need to testify.

Seeing Noah and reliving the shooting was bad enough but what came as an unexpected blow was Jess appearing at the hearing. Neither Rory nor Paris had expected him to show up. Yet there he was, all cleaned up in a dark blue dress-suit and dark shades. Paris had watched the interaction between him and Rory, or the lack of such, after the hearing. As if he had sensed Rory's presence, Jess' features had hardened into a stoic expression. He must've heard them talking, recognizing their voices. There had been a quick shadow of apprehension that Paris caught on, although it was hard to tell with his shades on, and then his posture stiffened into polite disinterest as he exchanged greetings with them, then moved on to leave the court room holding onto his lawyer's elbow, following lead. It had taken Rory a good couple of minutes to recuperate. Then they caught a cab and went straight into Rory's rental. After the break up Jess had insisted to be the one to move out and Rory didn't oppose. Rory had stayed in their previously shared rental and Jess had moved out. Fair enough. Who were they kidding. None of this was even close to being fair. Not by a far stretch. However, Jess' detached politeness was something Paris both expected and didn't expect. It was one thing to move out and try to save your dignity, it was something else when you greeted the love of your life with vague politeness like you'd met once on a medical symposium.

Paris looked at Rory who was staring at the glass she had been sipping water from. It had a small chip at the rim, smoothed from use.

'It's his glass,' Rory drew out, her voice sounding distant and frail. Her eyes were wide, as if she had just faced something terrible.

' I can't breathe. Paris... I can't breathe.'

'Hey. Rory,' Paris left the papaya on the counter and started pulling at kitchen drawers. 'Don't lose it, just let me find you a paper package and...'

Paris stopped midstep and turned back to her friend.

'Rory...'

'He's not coming back. He came back and he didn't come back to me. He's not coming back.'

'Shit. Come here.'

'Nothing's gonna fill his place,' Rory gasped against Paris' shoulder.

'I know.'

'I don't know what to do.'

'I know.'

'I don't know what to do,' she hissed, trying to catch her breath.

'It's okay.'

'Paris, stay... please?'

'I'm here.'

'Just for a couple of hours, until I...'

'Shut up, I'm here.'

* * *

Tristan looked at the screen of his mobile, thinking there must be a mistake.

He picked up at the third ring.

'I need a favor.'

'Well hello to you too, Daredevil,' Tristan chuckled.

There was silence at the other end of the line.

'Okay, sweet cheeks, shoot. What can I do for you?'

Okaay. What could Jess Mariano need Tristan's help for? This would surely be interesting.

As he listened to what Jess had to say, Tristan's smirk got wider.

'You got it, pal. You have no idea how badly I've wanted to get the chance to do this. So, tonight I pick you up around six? Oh, I just have a feeling we're gonna become the best of besties.'

* * *

 **TBC**


	32. Chapter 32

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine._

 ** _The song lyrics used below belong to Ingrid Michaelson._**

* * *

 _'The sky looks pissed_  
 _The wind talks back_  
 _My bones are shifting in my skin_  
 _And you my love are gone'_

* * *

'Hey.'

'Hey.'

Helen stopped in the middle of the break room, taking a closer look at Rory who was sitting in an armchair before the wooden coffee table, a package of peanuts and a styrofoam cup of coffee before her.

'Isn't your shift over?' Helen asked, looking around. The room was dusky, the lights still unlit, shadows long along the floor.

Rory's answer came fast and indifferent.

'Yeah.'

'Wasn't it over like two hours ago?' Helen probed, her brows slightly drawing together.

Rory dropped a peanut into her coffee.

'Yeah.'

'So what are you still doing here?'

Rory shrugged.

'Reaching new lows of self-pity.'

'Oh.'

Splash. Another peanut. Rory continued staring at the coffee cup.

'After my shift I passed by the cafeteria to grab a coffee and Animal Planet was on, featuring two turtles doing the nasty. That's when I realized I'm never gonna have sex again.'

' _Oh_.'

'Turtle sex makes me so miserable.'

'Can I join your pity party for a while?' Helen asked, wiping her palms against her thighs once before sitting beside Rory. 'I've got like an hour to spare.'

'Be my guest,' Rory waved at the armchair Helen had just occupied.

'So how does this work?' Helen nodded towards the styrofoam cup of coffee now floating with peanuts.

'Oh, it's easy. I drop a peanut for every time I remember something I miss about him.'

A pause. Then Helen nodded, her expression one of careful acceptance.

'Coolbeans.'

'I told you it's easy.'

Splash. Another peanut found its coffee flavored end.

Outside, the evening dusk was seeping over a careless June sky, clouding with the promise of oncoming rain. Weather didn't care. Seasons didn't care. Time didn't care who was miserable. The first drops of summer rain fell over the window, not caring if they remained unseen.

* * *

'You're haunting my bed.'

'And you're haunting my sandwich.'

'You don't believe me.'

'Do you believe yourself?'

'Go out with me.'

'No.'

'Go out with me. Just once.'

'You're worse than a muscle cramp. You won't go away and it gets worse each time you come back.'

'Why are you so distrusting?'

'Because you're you?'

'And that would mean...?'

Paris sighed wearily, putting her sandwich down.

'It means your gigantic male ego is bruised. You're fascinated by what you can't have.'

Tristan folded his arms before his chest.

'Prove it.'

'What?'

'Go out with me.'

'Really, Dugray. Drop it.'

'Do you really not remember anything?'

'Nope.'

'Not even the...'

'Not even it.'

He had to take a moment to assimilate the information.

'It was good,' he said stubbornly.

'So I hear.'

'In fact, it was exceptional.'

'I don't care.'

'We should totally recreate it and you _will_ care, believe me.'

'Fine.'

'Fine?'

'Yeah. Only leave me out of it. Go recreate it in the bathroom, get it over with and stop bugging me. Your mind is so plagued with sex it's surprising you ever manage to get anything done at all.'

'I have to see if it was a one-time thing.'

'Well it was.'

'Have to double check,' he shrugged not giving up.

Paris paused to give him a square look.

'You. Don't. Want. Me.' she said in articulate whisper.

'I've been getting blue balls through this whole conversation,' Tristan replied in a low, serious whisper. 'I get a hard-on when I read your name over the surgical schedule. Because really, have you seen your breasts? Once I've seen them I can't unsee them.'

Paris sighed, determined not to waste another second.

'I'm outta here,' she said with a shake of her head and bit on her sandwich.

'Really? You've ruined me to all other women and now you're walking out on me?' he asked, sounding like a pouty little boy. But dammit, he was flustered. He'd been fooled around for the game of playing hard to get, but that's all it had always been - a game. He'd never met a woman who actually refused to have anything to do with him. It was frustrating.

He watched her retreating back and couldn't believe it. His ego wasn't bruised. It was battered. Yet, he felt a strange vibe of excitement. No woman had dismissed him the way Paris Geller did. The morning after they got tangled up together on her sofa (then her bed... then her bathroom, oh sweet memories), she woke up at the sight of him reading a book propped on his elbow lying in her bed and she had laughed. He'd expected her to be her usual neurotic self going crazy about not being a rational adult hooking up with the biggest man-slut of all times or something like that but no - she'd laughed, long and hard. When he'd asked her what the hell she found so funny, she'd gestured between them and said, 'we've so fallen into the cliche'.

She had rushed over him like a hurricane and left him confused. And fascinated. And, what the hell, maybe she was right. Maybe he was fascinated by what he couldn't have. But he was willing to find out.

Tristan was pulled out from his thoughts by his phone beeping. Looking at the screen he smirked, shaking his head.

'Oh hey there bestie,' Tristan sing-songed into the phone, his smirk growing wider as he listened to Jess' snide reply.

'I have a hammer-crashed thumb to attend to behind curtain five, two hip joint replacements in fourth and then I'll probably scrub in to watch implant-related sarcoma resection... why wouldn't I tell you my work schedule, we're buddies now aren't we? Okay, okay, grumpy face, I'll pick you around seven...' Tristan paused to have a look at his watch, 'ish. Miss me,' he smirked into the phone before Jess hung up on him.

Damn, becoming buddies with Jess Mariano was even more entertaining than he'd expected. Although technically, they weren't buddies. Jess was becoming addicted and Tristan helped feed his addiction. Anyway, Tristan's inner moral compass wasn't alarmed. Because, aside from enjoying the bonus teasing that came with their situation, Tristan believed Jess needed this. Because it had helped Tristan more than a standard addiction could. Sometimes this was the only thing that kept Tristan sane.

* * *

 _'I'll never say that I'll never love_  
 _But I don't say a lot of things_  
 _And you my love are gone'_

Jess concentrated on his opponent's movements. They were caught in a tight grip, rolling on the floor, their legs tangled in a lock that prevented each of them from kicking the other. He focused on the other man's physique. Buff, strong, with the endurance of a practiced athlete. Substantially taller. A fighter's body. Jess was lean but scrawny in comparison. The other guy had the reflexes of a trained soldier and even if Jess did his best he had no chance of winning this round. Or the other. He wasn't in the shape to do this, but he could at least find some exertion trying to postpone losing. He felt the weight of the other man heavy over his chest as they continued their wrestle.

The gym floor smelled like sweat and worn out flooring. The flavor in Jess' mouth was rusty.

There was a sharp sound and in Jess' mind it sounded like shooting.

Jess willed his back to straighten and managed to pull one leg out of the lock, pushing himself up, managing to roll both himself and the other fighter over.

He held on tight.

 _Will I still see you?_

Jess felt himself being pulled away.

 _Come back to me._

He tried. God, did he try.

He remembered that moment clearly. When they pulled him off Rory and she called his name, shock and fear drenching her voice while he hung limp in the resuscitation team's hands. He tried to hold on to her, come back to her, but he failed and failed.

Feeling unknown hands grip at his arms Jess tried to move, make them let go, but then a familiar voice sounded close to his ear.

'It's over, pal. Let go. The round's over.'

Tristan. The round. They were in a gym. An MMA training gym. Reality flooded back in.

Channel frustration... Don't let it rule you. Focus. Keep it on track. Rule frustration, don't let it rule you. Fight for control. Over you mind, over your body. Your life's slipping away, get your grip back on it.

Jess had researched this condition. The temporal lobe of the brain was potently epileptogenic. And that's where the bullet had anchored. The first time Jess experienced a blackout, he wasn't even sure what was happening and it fucked him up pretty badly. But when it happened again a couple of days later he got the hint and researched further. Following temporal lobe trauma, some people suffered full-blown uncontrollable tonic-clonic seizures while others experienced momentary loss of awareness called absence seizures. Jess had a lot of the latter, especially after he moved out. Then, as he got back to work as a clinical consultant he felt the seizures fade and become rarer. He couldn't exactly control if he had a seizure or not but at least he could feel it coming and prepare. However, when he felt his control slipping he tended to miss the prodromes of an oncoming seizure and it caught him unprepared. Like tonight at the gym. Last week's court trial and crossing paths with Rory at work had fucked with his brain, letting his conflicted emotions run wild, making him doubt whether he was on the right track at all. He was losing his sense of purpose and this resulted in more blackouts. He needed an outlet or he was gonna implode. He needed physical exertion and he needed to regain his focus, his sense of control.

'You sure that's good for you?' Tristan asked.

It was half an hour after their training's premature end and they were sitting in Tristan's car after they showered and changed. It had been going well. After the first three trainings Jess had felt better, feeling the blackouts step back and give him more space to breathe but tonight something had gotten into him and he slipped.

Jess kept stubbornly silent with his arms folded before his chest.

'Believe it or not, I am trying to help you. But I'm not taking chances. You were out for a moment. After the referee signalled the end of the round you went all muscle and grip over me. It was like you weren't even aware what you were doing when you tackled me down.'

Jess set his mouth to the side, and rested his head back against the passenger seat's headrest, probably looking a lot like an angry teenager.

'It happened before?' Tristan asked.

Jess' silence served as an affirmation.

Tristan sighed.

'Okay, here's the deal. I'm taking you to training.'

Duh. Hallelujah.

'Provided you start therapy.'

Jess' head snapped in Tristan's direction. Jess felt sorry his eyes were covered by the dark shades, thus shielding Tristan from his demolishing gaze.

'What are you, my parole officer?' Jess asked impatiently.

'I prefer to think of myself as your personal trainer,' Tristan answered simply, not taking on Jess' bickering. 'I'm offering you a fair deal. You start therapy, I take you to beat some sweat on the mat. Take it or leave it.'

* * *

 _'My room feels wrong_  
 _The bed won't fit_  
 _I cannot seem to operate_  
 _And you my love are gone'_

'I'm not drunk.'

'You definitely don't smell like it.' There was humor in his voice. Whether it was irony? Hm, she couldn't tell. Okay, so maybe she had had a couple of drinks but wasn't that the point?.

'I'm not,' she insisted. 'Tipsy maybe, but drunk? Oh please. Will you...'

She moved past him and entered his apartment feeling around the wall for support.

'I tried though.'

She watched Jess' brows furrow in confusion as he reluctantly followed her into the kitchen.

'Tried what?'

'Getting myself drunk of course,' she reasoned, pointing out the obvious.

'You see,' she lowered her voice conspiratorially, turning towards him, 'I wanted to have an excuse to come see you.'

'This just keeps getting better,' he said and the irony (so it _was_ irony after all, this time she was able to grasp it) in his voice was mixed with rising annoyance.

'You have some booze?' she asked, already going through his kitchen cabinets.

Hilarious, she'd come seeking beverage so she could finally plaster herself. She giggled.

'I'd really appreciate it if you've got some _Martini_. I can't get through a whole glass of whiskey without popping an ulcer.'

Jess let out a sigh and braced both hands on the kitchen island. The familiarity of having her around was messing with his brain at a record speed. If he didn't get this situation under control sooner he was gonna have a blackout right in front of her. He mustered up all the cool logic in his voice.

'I think you should go, Rory.'

She waved him off absently while still rummaging through the kitchen.

'Can you stop being an ass for a moment and just give me a minute until I find some alcohol I can actually stomach?'

'Rory.'

'Oh whatever, the _Jägermeister_ will have to do,' she sighed theatrically and lifted the bottle, drinking a couple of long gulps before putting it back down, making a face. 'Yuk. Too much too fast. Anyway, I think I'm ready now.'

Jess massaged his temples with his thumb and middle finger. It was getting closer. Shit.

'Ready for what?'

She swung another gulp.

'I'm desperately missing you,' she said on an exhale.

For a second his expression contorted into a painful grimace. _Bingo!_ The next moment he managed to compose himself. Rory went for drinking another gulp.

'I'm turning into total sap,' she said, slightly slurring the words. _Go,_ _Jäger._ 'I came in here planning to seduce you,' she admitted good-heartedly, feeling a wave of warmth throughout her body. That's why people fell into bad ways. Alcohol made everything better.

'I imagined throwing myself at you, consequences be damned. But then I started doubting myself,' she continued, the smile in her voice bitter. 'If I was any good in bed, you'd at least be willing to have some leftover sex with me right? But you don't.'

'You're drunk,' he drained out, his emotions battling over one another. He couldn't decide if he was more angry or embarrassed by her act tonight. He was desperately trying to hold on to the anger and embarrassment part because if he indulged into the missing her part this was gonna spiral out of control very quickly.

'Yeah,' she sighed, deflating. 'Finally I am.'

'Rory,' he said wryly, willing himself to sound like the sober one and not like he was gonna lose it any moment now. 'I'm not gonna have leftover sex with you.'

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and pooled with gleaming blue. He couldn't see it, she thought. The way she needed him. She was invisible to him, and it had nothing to do with the physical ability to see her. She was still there, dammit. In so many ways, she was still present when he tried to pretend she wasn't. And she was trying to make him see. But he'd stopped looking.

'Not even to make it go away?'

His brows inched together in confusion, his gaze fixed somewhere above her right shoulder. So close. If he moved an inch, he'd be looking straight at her. But he missed her by an inch. The irony of it.

'What?'

'The void. I hate it when you're not there.'

Every second you're not around I hate, she thought.

That's all she wanted, she told herself. A taste. A glimpse of what used to be theirs.

He sighed, grasping the counter firmer, bracing himself. What could he say to make her leave? Think Jess, think.

'Rory, what we had was beautiful. But it ended. I had to end it.' He lifted his eyes and they looked as haunted as she felt when his look reached her chin. His voice cracked, 'I'm sorry.'

'Bullshit, Jess,' she let out a hoarse laugh. 'You're enjoying yourself, getting high on your pain because you're too much of a coward to play this any other way. God,' she shook her head, blinking fast trying to will her eyes not to cry although he couldn't see her. 'I hate what you're doing to us,' she hissed and stormed past him, leaving the bottle on the kitchen island with a thud on her way out.

* * *

She pressed the elevator button repeatedly, stubbornly willing her eyes to stay dry.

She imagined him, staying there in the kitchen of his new rental, unaffected. God, he didn't even put up a fight. He just let her slip and made sure it would stay this way. Couldn't see he belonged to her just as much as she belonged to him. He was losing her and didn't move a finger to stop it. He even tried to make sure she stayed away from him. Why? While she had had her own insecurities during the time of their relationship, she had done her best to fight them. Damn, she had overcome some of her worst fears for him. And he wasn't even putting up a fight. It hurt so much it made her angry. He had moved on with such ease, not casting a look back. She was his closest person, his best friend, his advisor, his strength and his kryptonite. How dare he turn his back on her? She was dying a little every day and all he did was watch on. Oh, the irony in it.

She let the hand that was pushing the elevator button hang limp by her side and a new kind of numbness enveloped her. Okay then. If he could play cold logic, she could play too. She could play dirty. Because she did indeed know him best.

She turned on her heel and came back into his still unlocked flat, found him (as expected) still in the kitchen.

She knew exactly how to slow his defense, she thought. Where to touch, what to speak (because words were what undid him, they were his weakness right?). Whispered word for whispered word, she could get him so worked up she would have him exactly where she wanted. Distract him, lure him in, blow his mind.

She knew him. And she had him pliant under that knowledge, his body humming under her lead. Because she knew his body had been missing her just as hers was craving him. He was simply too stubborn to let it show. If she couldn't have his consent, she would take his desire and use it to prove she still had him, even if it were only for a fleeting night.

Rory opened her eyes. The digits of the alarm on her bedside table showed 04:19 a.m. As she blinked the grogginess away, memories of her dream started to flood her mind. Because it was a dream... right? That drunken night had happened more than a week ago. That moment at the elevator had happened and passed, and she had gotten into the damn thing and then ran to catch a cab, afraid that if she didn't get home fast enough her insides might spill out of her shattered self. The only thing left of that night was the aftertaste of being rejected. The rest had happened only in her dream.

She drew the bed covers off and padded barefoot to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. The cold of the water sliced down her throat and settled below her chest. She welcomed the feeling.

It was one of those dreams that felt so real to the point of being palpable. She had experienced a sensory overload and her mind couldn't shake off the sensations. She could still feel his stubble against her cheek, taste his aftershave at the tip of her tongue. Damn. Stupid imagination. Why did it have to bring those feelings back and mash them up to the point where lines between reality and wishful thinking were so blurred?

And then the realization hit her, swift and unannounced.

She wanted to hurt him. The same way she felt devastated by missing him, she wanted him to feel drawn in only to be left shut out. She wanted to hurt him just as bad as he was hurting her. Loving him was a living, burning thing and now that it was bruised, her love felt violated and the havoc of that unresolved love was looking for a way out. They'd shared that great, all-consuming love and he dismissed it just like that. How dared he turn her into a four-year one-night stand?

God, the dream was so vivid, if she tried a little harder, she could go back into it, almost live it. People could get pregnant through such vivid dreams. It had to be illegal.

Then she remembered the look in Jess' eyes from her dream, how haunted and helpless he'd seemed. She remembered how she felt as she locked eyes with him. And knew two things were irrevocably true. She wanted to hurt him. She could. But it wouldn't make her feel any less unhappy.

After that night Rory started to deliberately avoid him. It wasn't that hard, given they weren't working together in the OR as they used to. At first she felt a bubbling unease, the itch to see him strong and torturous. But as days and weeks passed, the lack of confrontation brought some peace. It wasn't enough to feel better, but at least the constant ache became duller and easier to bear. So she came to the conclusion that avoidance was a friend. She wasn't feeling any less unhappy. But at least she wasn't feeling more unhappy either.

 _'So glide away on soapy heels_  
 _And promise not to promise anymore_  
 _And if you come around again_  
 _Then I will take the chain from off the door'_

* * *

'Oh hey, Suzy Hendrix,' Tristan picked up cheerily as he saw the caller's ID on the display, leaving the video game controller to the side. He made Aiden a sign to wait as he listened to what Jess had to say, ignoring the colorful language he used to greet him back. After a moment Tristan's brows arched up in pleased surprise. 'Honestly, Mariano, you'll never cease to surprise me. Who knew you could use that pretty head to do some reasonable thinking? Okay, okay, hold the expletives. Oh, I just can't wait until tomorrow to thrash your sorry ass all over the gym floor. Isn't it exciting?'

And that was Jess' line to hang up on Tristan.

Tristan rested back on his sofa, holding the mobile in his hand.

Beside him, Aiden held up his video game controller up willing Tristan to do the same.

'Was it uncle Jess?' Aiden asked as they restarted the game.

'Yeah,' Tristan answered absently.

'Is he still Daredevil?' Aiden asked enthusiastically.

'Yeah,' Tristan said, thoughtful. 'But he's looking for a way to gain back access to his superpowers.'

'Why?'

'Because sometimes superheroes get into bad situations where they need help too. And they fight hard to admit it.'

'And is uncle Jess gonna find his superpowers back?'

Tristan thought about it. Who knew Jess Mariano was capable of compromising? He was starting therapy. Was it because of Tristan's ultimatum? Somehow Tristan doubted that. Maybe once he'd had a taste, Jess liked fighting too much to give up. Unlikely. Or maybe Jess Mariano was actually beating his ass to find a way and get better.

'He's trying,' Tristan answered then. 'I think he has a fair chance if he keeps his mind on track.'

Aiden smiled, pleased.

'Cool.'

* * *

 **TBC**


	33. Chapter 33

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine. _

_A/N:_ A non-Lit-centered chapter I feel I need to warn you about, but I just love the secondary plotlines too much to leave behind. So, here it is, an update with the promise of oncoming Lit in next chapter :)

* * *

Doctor Paris Geller looked at her pager and a jolt of excitement crossed her spine.

Rory's brows furrowed suspiciously.

'She just got the weirdest smile,' Rory whispered to Helen who was sitting next to her on the break room couch.

'I bet someone's dying,' Helen whispered back.

'Of something interesting,' Rory added.

'You know I can hear you right?' Paris cast them a look and threw her empty coffee cup in the trashcan on her way out.

Both Rory and Helen gave her a tight smile.

Just before Paris closed the break room door, she popped her head back in grinning like a madwoman.

'Someone's crashing in Turkish and they need me to interpret. Yay.'

* * *

 _Half an hour later_

'Sen Türkçe biliyorsun?' Paris snapped.

'Evet. Neden yapmıyorsun? Türkiye'de dört yıl geçirdim,' Tristan replied.

'What are they doing?' Helen whispered, leaning towards Rory.

'I don't know,' Rory whispered back. 'I think they're arguing in Turkish.'

'Kim burada sana sordu?' Paris wouldn't give up.

'Kamar söyledi.'

Paris stopped, eyes going wide.

'You know Professor Kamar Algafari?'

'Of course I know him, we worked together in Turkey for three years.'

'Is there a surgical legend you don't personally know? I can't believe it. Kamar Algafari. _The_ Kamar Algafari.' Paris shook her head in disbelief. 'And you're buddies with him.'

Tristan's expression morphed from defiant into an amused one.

'You want an in on the surgery?' he asked slyly.

Paris opened her mouth and then closed it, her eyes shooting daggers at Tristan's now beaming smug smile.

'What do you want?' Paris asked in a tight voice.

Tristan's eyes flashed with a couple of unvoiced suggestions. But then he smiled genuinely and gave her a friendly wink.

'I'll talk to him.'

And with that he left Paris staring in the middle of the OR corridor.

* * *

'You and Tristan,' Rory laced an arm around Paris' elbow, leading her towards the cafeteria.

'Is there a reason why we should be paired in the same sentence or is it just a random thing you're doing these days?'

'I don't know, does hooking up with the guy give me a reason to put your names in the same sentence?'

'It was random rubbing of epidermis, people do it all the time.'

'Some people. Not you.'

'Well, now me too,' Paris rolled her eyes.

'Tristan looks interested.'

'He likes to rub epidermis.'

'And did you?'

'Holy Mother Mary and all saints, yeah,' Paris sighed with an almost dreamy expression.

This caught Rory unprepared.

'Yeah?'

'Oh yeah.'

'Well... why not act on it?'

Paris' brows furrowed in confusion.

'What do you mean?'

'I mean, the guy's begging you, and I mean literally begging you to go out with him.'

'No.'

'No he's not begging?'

'No I'm not going out with him.'

'Why?'

'I'm not dating Tristan Dugray.'

'Why? I thought the sex was good.'

'Ah,' Paris sighed with a flair of longing, 'it was exceptional.'

'Why wouldn't you do it again then?'

'Oh, the sex I would do again, right away, right here,' Paris gestured towards the cafeteria. 'Just get him here, get everyone else outside and stay in front of the door to play guard dog and I would rub epidermis with him all over the place.'

Rory blinked apprehensively, fighting the unwelcome imagery. Too much information too fast. Well whatever. This was Paris after all.

'Let me clarify. You wanna have sex with Tristan but you don't wanna date him, right?'

'Well, duh.'

Great sex, no strings attached. Wasn't this like the ultimate dream of all Tristan Dugrays in the world? And, currently, her good friend Paris' obviously.

'O-kay. So why won't you?'

'Because he's gotten it into his head that he likes me,' Paris rolled her eyes. 'Which is only the product of his bruised male ego but still... I'm a single parent fighting for a place in the surgical world while being a woman and as previously mentioned a single mother. I don't need any further complications in my life and Tristan is just so... clingy. It's slimy. And distracting. And completely unnecessary. I don't need his crushing on my unattainability messing with my life.'

Rory needed a moment to assimilate Paris' reasoning. Friendzoning a willing Tristan Dugray. This was something Paris Geller could definitely excel, yet... Leave it to Paris to think of a crush in terms of its necessity.

Rory thought about it for a while, then smiled.

'You've been better lately. More...' she searched for a proper word, 'lively. It's the first time after the divorce when I've seen your face relax and then...' Rory looked around the cafeteria conspiratorially, as if making sure no one could hear them. 'You even smiled once.' She accompanied her statement with a double nod for emphasis. 'I thought your face muscles had atrophied.'

Paris shrugged, uninterested in Rory's musings.

'Well getting laid generally does that. Endorphine levels go way up, it's crazy.'

'You _s-m-i-l-e-d_ ,' Rory insisted.

'Plus scrubbing in with Professor Algafari equals surgical orgasm, so there's that too.'

Rory only gave her a look. Paris rolled her eyes.

'Oh shut up.'

'All I'm saying is it's good to have you back.' Rory put her hands up in defense.

And whether you like it or not, Tristan is rubbing off on you, in more ways than one, Rory thought inwardly.

* * *

'You know what I'm doing this weekend?' Tristan grinned while scrubbing his hands.

Paris continued to scrub her own hands with a little more force than necessary for the sanitary purpose of it. Of course scrubbing in with Tristan for Professor Algafari's procedure would lead to unwanted pulp conversation.

'I don't care.'

'You could join me. Come on, ask me what I'm doing this weekend.'

Paris narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Could this include some surgical goodness? There was a time when Tristan would try to case-bribe her into cutting him some slack. And he did know professor Algafari on a first-name basis.

'Boy, I will regret this but whatever. So, Tristan,' she turned towards him with emphatic politeness while rinsing her forearms in the scrub room sink. 'What are you doing this weekend?'

And does it include exotic surgical procedures I want to know about?

He grinned, pleased she decided to play along, and made a step towards her, holding his forearms up so that waterdrops fell towards his elbows.

'Well, I'm doing the dirty.'

Paris huffed and shook her hands to get rid of the loose waterdrops against the sink before starting another round of scrubbing them.

'What?' Tristan chuckled, making another step towards her so that he was practically hovering her left side.

'No,' Paris lifted a hand to silence him, 'my bad. Why would I think you were capable of spending one free minute doing something that doesn't necessarily involve explicit sex scenes?'

'Who's said anything about sex?'

Paris rolled her eyes.

'Is this little brain of yours suffering from severe ischemia? I guess all of your blood supplies are directed elsewhere.'

'Hey, I said I was doing the dirty,' he pointed out, a playful gleam in his eyes. 'Meaning I am gonna wrap myself into the duvet as a human cocoon and binge watch _Game of Thrones_.'

Paris rinsed her hands again and lifted her forearms, slightly angling towards him, her expression stubborn.

'This enunciates some HBO graphic explicitness.'

'Not the way you meant it.'

'How do you know what way I meant it?'

'Because I'm crowding you and you didn't react.'

He was in fact close enough so that she could depict his scrubs fabric softener.

'Oh, I am reacting,' she didn't give up. 'I'm mentally kicking your ass.'

'I want you to join me,' he said, the playful gleam leaving his eyes.

'I'm kicking your ass big time, squishing your balls.'

'I want you to come over and have lunch, watch Netflix with me,' Tristan continued, ignoring the chance for a lame comment about her concern for his balls.

'Last time it was HBO.'

'Bring Josh, Aiden would be exhilarated to have company,' Tristan didn't give up.

'Are you out of your mind?'

'Give me a fair chance and I'll make it up to you.'

'Make it up for what?'

'For everything you think I am that I'm not.'

His expression had turned dead serious. It made Paris a little uncomfortable, seeing a side of him she had no idea what to make of. She was always prepared. She was a professional planner and she had planned his screw-up. She was even willing to walk him through the steps of said screw-up. But he wasn't playing according to plan. He didn't seem scared of this big bad brain of hers.

'It helps me forget,' he said, his voice low, blunt.

'What?'

He sucked on the insides of his cheeks, letting out a slow sigh.

'Sex takes my mind off stuff,' he admitted, meeting her look square.

'Okay. Can we get in and cut some gut now?' she asked awkwardly, realizing that through the last five minutes she had failed to make her feet move and create a proper distance for mortifying obnoxious man-sleazes.

'I don't feel the need to pretend around you,' he continued, ignoring her attempt for evasiveness.

She hung her head to the side facing away from him and paused with her arms flexed in the elbows, water drying off.

'We had some rebound sex,' she said seriously turning back to face him with a condescending look as if she was tutoring a lazy student 'Don't make this something it isn't.'

Then moved on to the OR, irritated with him for distracting her from professor Algafari's surgery, willing her mind to get back on track. Nerdy, surgical track. Because she was that good. She could switch her mind from making Tristan Dugray shut up to scrubbing in with one of the best vascular surgeons known to contemporary medical history and she could do it in the blink of an eye. Feeling Tristan's eyes on her temple couldn't distract her from one of the most exciting surgeries she had scrubbed in. Nah. But there was a tiny little bit of her that was also itching to hunt the meaning behind his words. _Sex takes my mind off stuff._ What stuff, Tristan?

* * *

 **TBC**


	34. Chapter 34

_Disclaimer : Not mine, etc._

 _A/N: One of my favorite chapters. Yay :) Hope you enjoy :)_

* * *

She stood as far from him as possible. He hadn't noticed her, she thought. Or he'd just resumed his silent treatment. Whichever the case, as far as she was concerned he could do whatever the hell he wanted. She was so gonna take the stairs from now on. She had bad elevator history, she decided. Ever since that infamous drunken night, elevators were jinxed for her. It was faith it seemed. She restrained herself from tapping her foot nervously, trying not to draw attention to herself while giving him a once-over.

He didn't have his shades on. His face was clean-shaven. Had he gone more buff? His white coat seemed a size broader, his shoulders somehow spanning wider than they used to. One sleeve of his coat had ridden an inch up his wrist, revealing a wiry forearm. And were his knuckles purple? Get a grip, Gilmore. It doesn't matter if he's turning into an Apollo urban personification clad in a medical uniform, make your ovaries shut up about it and stop ogling him. _Now._

Rory willed herself to look away.

People went in and out of the elevator. A couple of floors up they were the only two left, the space suddenly getting quiet. Claustrophobic. Jess-confined.

 _Shit. Don't breathe. Don't blink. Pretend you've stopped existing. It will be over just a couple of floors up._

Rory fleetingly thought of walking out on him. Yeah, the next floor was her escape and she would willingly climb the remaining six flights of stairs which for a Gilmore pretty much equaled walking through the Arab desert alone with no coffee or junk at hand. Just a couple of seconds more until the bloody thing stopped and its doors would slide open.

And it did stop. Only it did it with a little shake and the doors didn't open.

 _Really? No. Really?_

They were stuck in an elevator. Great. Could this situation get any more cliche? Rory started pushing the up button to no avail, then moving on to the emergency button.

'Stop abusing it will ya?' Jess' voice came over. 'We're stuck.' By the sound of it, he couldn't be more bored by the situation. Not a trace of recognition.

She ignored his request, continuing to press the emergency button frantically.

'Seriously, you just Morse cussed Otis,' he said.

She rolled her eyes at his comment and dug her phone out of her purse. _No connection. Just great._ She let out a low frustrated growl.

He froze.

'Rory?' his voice rasped through his throat, as if the lack of use of her name had made it rusty.

So he really hadn't recognized her. How hadn't he felt her presence so far, she wondered, was he growing progressively unaware of her now? Soon maybe he wouldn't recognize her voice either. _Excuse me, have we met somewhere? In the kitchen of my old rental? Really? What did you say was your name again - Rory... that's an interesting name. Doesn't ring a bell though._ Not being able to feel her presence. It was consistent with the way he was methodically erasing her from his life. Oh well. She was tired of feeling losing him over and over again. It had to stop somewhere. Here was as good of a point as any, wasn't it?

Jess made a step forward but stopped short, as if remembering something.

'It's you, isn't it?' he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

'No, it's the Dalai Lama.'

The play of emotions over his face as he heard her voice was a peculiar sight.

Surprise, excitement, joy, embarrassment. He looked like a shy college boy and it would be charming was it not irritating.

Yeah, she realized. It was irritating. He'd spent so much energy on pushing her back only to look excited when he met her afterwards. _Screw him._

Thankfully, the expression of awe on his face was soon replaced by vague politeness. Okay, she could handle polite.

'How... how are you?' he asked.

Oh, the nerve he had!

'I'm peachy, Jess. Being stuck with you in an elevator just tops my wanna-do checklist for today so yeah, I'm peachy,' she huffed. Okay, so maybe some of his attitude had rubbed off on her after all.

His lips curved up with the beginning of what she thought was a smile, but he licked them clean of it, seemingly trying to get a grip over himself. _Yes, Jess. Do this. Restrain yourself, you pathological stoic brood, pretend you didn't worship the ground I was walking on just a couple of months ago._

'I realized I never talked to you about what happened,' he said then. What?. 'I never told you what it feels like to not see with your eyes.'

What the hell was happening? Was he gonna open up now? Just like that - after months of keeping silent, let me tell you about my life now because of a chance meeting in a stuck elevator? He had started therapy, right? He probably had an assignment - spill your guts to random exes in stuck elevators. Right.

Rory stood still, not daring to breathe. Was she allowed to? She had no idea. She only knew that the moment felt surreal.

'It feels easier to focus,' Jess continued, his voice calm and steady. 'One third of my brain is available to process more sensory information. It's like, after being in a crowded place you walk into a quiet room and close the door. Suddenly, every detail is of significance.'

Jess raked a hand through his hair, his fingertips briefly pausing over the scar above his right ear. He tried to organize his thoughts into something coherent but it was a pretty darn job, given he had consciously tried his best to suppress all those thoughts for months. He wasn't prepared for the longing that missing her had brought into his life. And most of the time he found ways to cope with it. But with her in the same room (elevator, whatever) the feeling resembled taking a gulp of air after spending weeks underwater, her presence overwhelming him in ways he wasn't prepared to handle. You will miss me like air, she had said. When he went around their apartment after the accident and she wasn't home, he still could feel her everywhere - in the smell of the bed sheets, in the contents of the fridge. She was in the order of the teacups in the cabinets over the kitchen sink. His brain kept flooding with images he couldn't shut his eyes against. And he felt crowded. He knew she didn't expect him to magically start doing better, accept his new life and move on but he had so many urging questions that ate at him and he desperately needed to have some answers when had none. So he had to move out. He needed the distance in order to rebuild himself, find his own limits now that his whole life was upside down.

'You didn't recognize me at first,' she countered, somehow wanting to provoke him. He'd been guarded for so long that now she wouldn't let him slide with his sudden burst of honesty.

The smile he gave her was bitter, self-deprecating.

'I did but thought my mind was fucking with me.'

Because sometimes I still see you even though I can't.

Rory felt her eyes sting and blinked apprehensively, promising herself she wouldn't cry.

'It's okay if you feel you must cry. I'd rather you didn't but it's okay if you do anyway.'

She dabbed her eyes with the back of her hands.

'How... how do you...'

'Your breathing. It changes a couple of seconds before your tear ducts get the signal. If you focus, you can hear the tear before you can see it. How creepy is this, huh?'

'At least you didn't go psychic,' she let out a half-sob, half-chuckle and wiped her cheek with the back of her palm.

'God, I miss you.'

It slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it and sealed his lips shut as he heard her suck in for air. He hung his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to think of a way to make up for his slip-up.

Rory stood frozen to the place.

She didn't think this could hurt any more than it already did. She was wrong.

Why now? Just as she was trying to make this more bearable, justifying his behavior by some twisted cold logic. Just as she'd made herself believe he'd been ripped of all emotion, the bullet in his head messing with his limbic system.

'I don't...' she straightened up and smoothed her skirt, trying to pull herself together.

With a small shake, the elevator started moving up. Rory made a step forward so she stood before the sliding doors, willing them to open faster. She felt Jess approach her and stop somewhere behind her left shoulder. She could feel his breath against the bare skin of her nape.

'Ror...'

The doors started sliding open.

'Excuse me,' she couldn't leave fast enough, his voice and the feeling of him right next to her haunting her for the rest of the day.

* * *

'It's bad,' Rory warned them on their way to the exam room.

As she met Tristan and Paris' questioning looks Rory sighed, making them pause in front of the exam room's door. Her expression was wary.

'I know we're doctors and we've seen a lot of bad stuff. We're generally prepared. But this is just...' she swallowed and folded her arms, hugging her chest. 'It's worse. Can you please try and not stare? He's very sensitive about the scars and I think we need to gain his trust if we want to get him to tell us the truth about what happened.'

Paris stood in her place, devotedly contemplating horrific scenarios of what they were gonna see. Tristan was the first to move, giving Rory's shoulder a light squeeze, the look in his eyes calm and steady.

'Let's see the kid.'

* * *

As they went out of the exam room Paris mumbled something to excuse herself and went straight for the nearest bathroom where she emptied her lunch in the first vacant stall. She wasn't easily shaken. She was a hardcore surgeon who rarely lost their cool. She blamed the way seeing this boy made her feel on being a mother. After Josh started factoring in her life, kid patients never felt the same to her. It was probably projection. And thousands of years of layering mother instincts making her want to get them away from harm's way the way a mother would.

As she got out of the stall, Tristan was waiting for her, leaning back against the sink with his legs crossed at the ankles. She looked around, almost expecting him to be meeting someone else. In the lady's bathroom. Oh whatever. There was no one else. He had come after her. He held out a bottle of water and she took it, opening it with a suspicious look.

'You know how there's tons of ugly stuff happening around the world?' Tristan spoke.

Her brows arched questioningly.

He chewed on the inside of his lip.

'And at the back of your mind you just decide to know nothing about it?'

She gave him a silent nod, waiting for him to go on. He sighed and rubbed both palms against his short cut hair.

'Well, this time I spent in Turkey... Let's say there's less ugly stuff I know nothing about.'

He looked at her and the blue of his eyes held so much torment she held her breath. And believed him. Whatever he had witnessed and been through, had changed him. She had no idea what that meant exactly, but she was starting to get a hunch.

'We're gonna bring our A game for this kid, okay?' he offered her a reassuring smile. 'See you outside.'

After witnessing certain amounts of injustice, and witnessing that repeatedly, probably the best thing one could hope for was... comfort. And, somehow, it was there. Along with the wariness and chaos, along with each insecurity and loss, there was comfort too. And although it was in Tristan Dugray's uncanny company, comfort transpired right there in this room, if even only for a moment.

* * *

'Come in,' Paris heard after the second knock. She opened the door to find Professor Algafari pack his things. He had used one of the spare offices for the week in which he was here.

'Doctor Geller,' he greeted her as he looked up. 'Come on in, it's good to see you, have a seat.'

Paris looked around the room, folding and unfolding her fists. This was awkward. Under normal circumstances she would be here wanting an in on a breakthrough surgery.

'Please, do have a seat,' Professor Algafari gave her a friendly smile. 'Can I offer you some tea? I'm afraid that's all I have left here,' he gestured towards the small cabinet on the wall behind.

Paris shook her head, biting on her lip while looking for a way to start this.

'What is it, young lady,' the Professor asked calmly. He had stopped packing and was curiously eyeing Paris who was still standing in the middle of the room.

'You're Tristan's friend, right?' Paris asked, meeting his look.

Professor Algafari nodded.

'I'd like to think so. We worked side by side for three years. We've shared some hard moments.'

Paris licked her lips.

'What happened to him? What happened to him there to make him want to forget?'

'Ah,' the man sighed and moved to sit at the desk's edge. 'He hasn't told you a thing, has he?'

'No.'

'Why don't you ask him?' the Professor asked.

'I'm asking you,' Paris replied stubbornly.

He gave her another studying look, his eyes narrow. When he finished his scrutiny he let a small smile creep up his lips.

'Okay then,' he made her a gesture to sit down and folded his arms before his chest. 'Have a seat, doctor Geller.'

'The first time I met Tristan he was sent on a humanitarian program to help me in the refugee camp for a year. He was young, cocky, careless. His military school record had gotten him the job but I'm not sure he got a clue what he was gonna deal with until he actually arrived into the camp.'

Paris could easily imagine what the Professor meant. This was Tristan - the way she remembered him from Chilton - young, capable and stupid.

'A refugee camp and a war camp have many similarities. Desperate people, desperate measures. Violence becomes a means to survive. We did the best we could but it was rarely enough. For a spoiled wealthy boy Tristan was doing good. He put his hands in the work and he became more efficient as months passed by and during all of this he somehow managed to keep his... naivety I guess, for lack of a better word. He has this sunny personality, gliding above things like nothing can really get to him, you know?'

'I know.'

'But then something happened. There was this woman,' Professor Algafari explained. 'Ajda. A friend of hers brought her in one day - she was so heavily beaten she was unconscious. We took care of her. As she came to, she pleaded that we let her go without reporting the abuse to the local authorities. Three weeks later she came back on her own. This time, with a broken arm. She couldn't visit a standard hospital because they would have to file a report.'

The Professor paused and sighed.

'Ajda was a remarkably beautiful woman. When she passed you by you would hold your breath and just stare.'

He rubbed his beard, lost in the memory.

'Her husband was a powerful man. He was the head of a drug-dealing canal that used refugees to traffic cocaine around Europe. Ajda was afraid that her husband's connections would find her if she tried to escape...'

He paused again, then smiled a cryptic smile.

'Tristan fell for her, hard. He was going around like sick - it got worse every time she came back for help. He tried to talk to her, persuade her to become a protected witness but she wouldn't hear. Maybe she was right. American law and protection don't apply there and who knows what would've happened had she tried anything. However, this was slowly driving Tristan insane. Sometimes I feared he might do something stupid.'

'Like... what?'

'Like taking a gun and shooting the hell out of her husband.'

'Oh.'

'He renewed his contract with the humanitarian association so he could stay there.'

'So they were... like a thing or something?'

The elderly man shook his head thoughtfully.

'No. At least not to my knowledge. I would believe deep down Ajda loved him back but was too afraid to act on it for fear of the consequences. Anyway, at the end of Tristan's second year in Kilis, there was an attack against Ajda's husband and they both died as a result of a car bomb explosion.'

A heavy silence fell upon them. Paris was trying to wrap her mind around what she'd just heard, but it sounded like too much. Tristan's life was a goddamn action soap opera.

'You said this happened at the end of his second year there?' she asked in a while.

'Yeah.'

'But he was there for four years.'

'Tristan had to go through some pretty tough procedure fighting for custody of Aiden. Aiden's given name was Levent. He's Ajda's son. He was three turning four at the time they first met.'

It just kept getting better.

'Tristan's lawyer managed to convince the judge that it would be best for the kid to get as far from the people who murdered his family as possible.'

'So...' she paused, 'this is it?'

He looked impressed by her lack of reaction.

'Yeah. Yeah, I think that wraps up the major facts.'

'So overdone,' she shook her head and turned to leave the room with a whiff.

So the guy was practically a hero. The death of his one true love had made him grow up and he had become a compassionate, loving man who adopted another man's son to treat as his own flesh and blood. A fucking hero. Paris felt disgusted.

Then, as if remembering something, she asked,

'What about the boy?'

'Aiden adores Tris. He is his hero. Actually, I think the feeling is quite mutual.'

Paris' look must have been questioning because the Professor smiled knowingly.

'Tristan was in a bad place after the attack. He was... lost, I guess. Aiden was also alone and probably the one person who did relate to the loss was Tristan. They gave each other a sense of purpose, forming a strong relationship. Tristan is aware of it and would never jeopardize it.'

'That's why it didn't work out with Beatrice Shefield, didn't it?' Paris asked, referring to Tristan's one long-term girlfriend, remembering how he'd insisted he wasn't the one who'd caused things to break off.

'Bea was fascinated by Tristan, but she wasn't the domestic type. She didn't want to fit a kid into her life. Tristan wouldn't compromise.'

Paris nodded slowly.

'Doctor Geller,' Professor Algafari said making her stop at the door. 'I'm glad he has found a friend here too.'

Paris opened her mouth to protest but he smiled with understanding and she decided not to argue. She gave him a tight smile and with that left the room.

* * *

She was losing a patient. Paris had mentioned it was a child patient, the case featuring some brutal violence and extensive physical trauma but didn't elaborate. Knowing Rory well enough, Jess knew she would invest all of herself into the case, both emotionally and professionally. As he tried to dig some more information from Paris, she refused to spill.

 _You're either in or out, stop pretending to be over her while still stalking her. You solving her dying ancient granny case for her while hiding behind my back was close enough, she almost caught me discussing her case with you on my phone._

He had tried to argue but Paris was determined.

 _Stop case-stalking her, Jess._

So, Paris had chosen sides. And he thanked God she'd chosen Rory's. At least she wasn't alone in this. How fucked up was this - he was the one who chose to push her away, yet he wanted to make sure she had the support of her friends going through the breakup. Pretty fucked up, a tiny voice answered at the back of his mind. That's why you pushed her away in the first place, isn't it? Because you're a train wreck and you wanted her off the train before she wrecked along with you.

She was losing a patient. A child. Lately she had been taking up on some doomed cases, probably looking for some cosmic equilibrium, proving she could handle tough. But taking up on lost cases was bound to end up in disappointment. Rory never really accepted losing patients as part of the job. Secretly, Jess suspected no self-respecting doctor did, but with Rory it was a matter of principle. She thought of it as keeping her promise to her patients to do her best. And she believed her best was to save them.

Was she feeling a little sad so that telling her she was gonna be okay, a hug and a chaste kiss against the inside of her wrist would be enough to make it better? Or was it a deeper sadness that needed time to settle down? One that needed shared silence and just being there next to each other, her head resting over his shoulder or him resting in her lap, finding comfort in each other's company.

He had chosen to distance himself from her but he hadn't been prepared for the void her absence would leave in his own life. So many things had started to seem meaningless without her. Like getting up in the morning. Or trying to be a better man. Or believing something good actually existed. Maybe, one day, she would meet someone who would keep his promise to make her insanely happy.

Shit.

Jess put the hand holding the hammer down by his side, muttering a few chosen curse words, then got off the chair he had climbed upon. He left the hammer on the chair and held onto his smashed forefinger. Why should hammering a bell over your office door be rocket science when you're blind, huh? Once you lost sight of things, you suddenly became clumsy enough to attain the talent of hurting yourself falling both up and down stairs. Or hammer-smash your fingers while trying to do something as lame as nail a bell over your freaking office door so that you knew at least two seconds before someone entered or left. He hated the uncertainty that came with blindness. He couldn't predict what would happen next because he felt he was always moving one step behind, following the events instead of guiding them. He felt like he was always trying to catch up with time and somehow it always slept away from his outstretched hands.

Jess dug his mobile out of his white coat's pocket and used the voice activated software to call the one person who first came up to mind when he thought about smashed fingers.

* * *

'So, how's the golden finger healing?' Tristan asked humorously. They were at the gym and he was holding the punchbag for Jess, every once in a while giving him instructions, with Jess only listening half-heartedly. 'By the way, you're welcome.'

'For what?' Jess asked, throwing a boxing gloved fist at the punchbag, then kicking it a couple of times before returning to punching it again.

'For becoming your new favorite person in case of smashed finger emergency of course.'

'We gonna break some sweat or what?' Jess asked, feeling impatience make way through his voice.

'Thrashing you around the gym floor is always the highlight of my day, Mariano,' Tristan chuckled, letting go of the punchbag and heading towards the mat at the other end of the gym. Jess followed, making his way well enough on his own, already used to the surroundings.

'Just tell me again,' Tristan said as Jess joined him over the fighting mat, 'why would you try to hammer-smash your finger - is this another elaborate plan to get my company? Because I sure as hell am flattered. And a little creeped. But mainly flattered.'

'Shut up Dugray.'

* * *

Jess rested his back against the leather chair in his office, moving his look from left to right. He knew the interns were aware he couldn't see them, but he was doing one hell of a good job spooking them through his point-on level stare. It was easy enough to orchestrate, having the revolving chairs in his office fixed against the floor so he knew exactly where each chair stood, Jess had rehearsed said infamous point-on stare with a couple of the hospital's janitors until he mastered it to perfection. Easy-breezy.

The interns were baerly breathing. Jess assumed they were wondering if he could actually use something beyond the spectral range to see them.

'So,' he put the tips of his fingers together before his chest, letting a slow smirk creep up his lips. 'You're gonna dig some information on a case.'

'But we're...'

'You're plankton. Food to the fish. The lowest step of the food chain. You don't wanna get into this conversation.'

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, sweeping another 'I can see infrared' look over them.

He pointed a thumb towards his chest.

'Shark.'

Then jerked it in their direction.

'Plankton.'

Silence. Okay, he got their attention.

'So, who's with me?' he asked, letting his crooked smile reveal his teeth.

The five interns muttered an 'I am' almost immediately. Ah, Jess thought contently, it was so easy to manipulate the masses once you were an attendant and they were interns. Life was so unfair to the weak. He smirked, the plan already forming in his head.

* * *

 **TBC**


	35. Chapter 35

_Disclaimer : Not mine. A very hard and heavily emotional chapter to write. Hope you enjoy everything it's meant to make you feel.  
_

* * *

Automaticity of the heart is the ability of the heart to generate electrical impulses for its own contraction without an outside source. What this means is that you could literally separate your heart from your brain and it will still be able to contract, knowing exactly what to do. For a short period of time that is, because without your brain you won't be able to breathe and will consequently find your demise. Yet, it will know. Exactly what to do.

* * *

Jess Mariano was dreaming.

'You think we should have pet names for each other?'

'What?'

'Pet names.'

'We had those. For about five minutes, while you were trying to ward off the hoards of horny interns fighting for my attention. Teddy Bear, wasn't I?'

Rory rested her face in her palm for a moment, chuckling. Then looked up again with a smile.

'Come on,' she tugged on his wrist, rising on her toes to kiss his jaw. 'What's your favorite part of me?'

'Like in body part?'

She nodded.

'Well, I guess I like your butt.'

She swatted his shoulder.

'Yuk. Chauvinistic.'

'Male interpretation of female anatomy, can't help the way it sounds to you, Gloria Steinem.' he shrugged. 'It's also safe to say you got killer legs,' he added with a cocky smirk.

Rory rolled her eyes, knowing he was teasing.

'That's not your favorite part of me.'

'Huh. And how would you know?'

'Oh please. I know when you're lying.'

'O-kaay,' he licked his lips, giving it some actual thought this time. Then smirked as he came up with the answer. 'The spot below your ear, where your jaw ends.'

'What?' she chuckled in amused disbelief.

'Yeah,' he answered with more certainty.

'Why?'

'Your skin is real soft there,' he shrugged. 'And it smells like you.'

'And what would that be?'

'I don't know. Home.'

She stopped walking for a moment and pulled on their intertwined hands to kiss the back of his hand. She had a huge grin on. He arched an eyebrow and hooked an arm around her waist, pulling her in for a slow kiss.

'You can say you like my tongue,' he murmured. 'I'll believe you. Plus it will be very feminist.'

She chuckled.

'I do like it. But it doesn't sum you up.'

'That's because I cannot be summed up,' he said, moving on to kiss her neck and reaching that particuar spot below her ear. 'I'm vast and deep like an ocean of awesome possibilities, you need a lifetime to explore me. And I mean that - do explore me,' he exhaled against her ear.

'Mmm,' she hummed in appreciation, letting him pull her more into him as he softly sucked on the skin. 'I like your Adam's apple.'

He stopped and drew back, brows frowning. Way to kill the mood.

'What?'

Rory shrugged with a smile.

'It's sexy. Masculine.'

'Jeez.'

He resumed walking with her hand intertwined with his.

'More masculine than Teddy Bear,' Rory offered with a slight bump into his side.

'You don't say.'

'What about Disney couples?'

'Have I done something to piss you off?'

'Which couple would we be?'

'Damn. That's revenge, isn't it?'

'Oh, I know!'

Jess sighed dramatically.

'God let it please be something played by Johnny Depp.'

'We're Flynn and Rapunzel.'

'Huh.'

Jess opened his eyes and sat in the bed. He blinked. Still nothing. So, he had been dreaming. Now he was awake. When there was no visual difference between falling asleep and waking up it was sometimes hard to tell whether he was asleep or awake. However, in his dreams he was always able to see what was happening around him. And with time he came to realize that he was awake when he wasn't able to see. He felt around the bed and something moved under the bed cover. What the...

'Hey,' Rory's sleep-clogged voice murmured. 'It's early. Come on back here, let's cuddle,' she wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him back next to her, snuggling closer.

Jess was frantically trying to remember what had happened between last thing he remembered clearly and this very moment. Getting back together. This had to have happened. Right? Was he having a blackout, was this what this was?

He disentangled himself from her muttering something about having to use the bathroom.

He moved around the apartment, realizing it was their old apartment. He knew his way around, getting to the bathroom. He turned on the faucet and splashed some cold water over his face. He ran his finger tips over the scar above his right ear. He was like some freaking Harry Potter disciple. Fuck.

He reached for the towel but his hand caught on something on its way and a couple of bottles tumbled down over the tiles. He muttered a curse and kneeled on the tile floor to try and find them, but only found other bottles, probably ones containing cleaning products, tumbling them down too. He felt something wet his palm, soaking his sleeping pants. It stung. One of the bottles must have been bleach. He felt around for the sink.

'Hey,' Rory's voice sounded above him. 'Let me help you.'

'I'm okay,' he said between clenched teeth, trying to finally pull himself up over the sink.

'Here, let me-' Rory caught his arm but he shrugged her hand off.

'I said I'm okay,' he said, his voice high and strangled.

'I was just trying to -'

'I know what you're trying to do okay?' he seethed. 'It's just not working. Just...' he made an indefinite gesture with his hand. 'Just stop, okay? Just stop.'

Her voice was tiny when she spoke.

'I... I don't know what I did.'

He heard her retreating steps.

'You didn't do anything,' he muttered and tried to follow her but his feet wouldn't move. He tried and tried but he felt numb, like paralyzed. He tried to call after her but his voice wouldn't come out.

Jess gasped for air and opened his eyes to darkness. He was sitting in his bed. Awake. Alone. He felt around the bed covers just to make sure. It had been a dream. His first blind dream. It had felt both lucid and so real. At the back of his mind he knew he'd been dreaming. But the feelings were real. Ever since the elevator scene he had been trying to imagine how it would be to get Rory back. Tonight he got an answer. As long as he was such a mess, that's what it would be like - him hurting her over and over again, letting his anger sweep everything that was within close range. He wasn't ready. But the need to have her back was nibbling at his resolve.

...

* * *

Rory watched them dumbfound for a moment. The exchange was quick and nonexplicit yet sent off the message quite clearly. The leggy intern made her way to the line of people waiting for their lunch, two cutlery sets on the tray in her hands. One for her and one for him.

Rory got up and made a beeline to their table, stopping exactly before him.

As if he'd sensed her presence, he moved his head up in her direction. Before anyone had time to say a word Rory lifted her hand and slapped his cheek. Quick and hard, the slap made a couple of bystanders turn in their direction.

She took a breath and walked away before Jess had formed a reply.

Jess' lips curved into a peculiar almost-smile as he lifted his hand to touch his burning cheek.

* * *

'You alone?'

'Yeah. Just me and all of my book boyfriends doing charts. What's up?'

'It's about Jess and a patient.'

'Did you know he has become a professional mindfucker?'

'Jess' patient?'

'Jess' patient's doctor.'

Cafeteria. Jess and the slutty intern who'd been all but straddling his lap at lunch today. Yeah. Because Jess had done that. Made a point of walking around with his new 'assistant', making it look like they'd all but just rolled out of bed.

'He's taking each test the patient is.'

'Good for him. I hope each test hurts more than the last.'

'He's not banging this intern.'

'I hope all tests hurt the same, meaning like hell.'

'The patient has temporal lobe tumor pressing the optic chiasm.'

Rory looked up. Paris gave her a nod.

'Jess is trying to find if he can start seeing again.'

* * *

Rory entered his office in a huff, not bothering to knock.

'Are you completely out of your mind?'

'Well hello to you too, Rory,' he greeted nonchalantly, almost as if he'd been expecting her to appear.

'No, really,' she continued, unfazed by his lack of surprise. 'What the hell is _wrong_ with you?'

He rested back in his chair and folded his arms before his chest.

'As far as medical records go, I have a bullet in my head preventing my optical tract from functioning properly,' he explained matter-of-factly.

'You're gonna run each test the patient runs?' she asked incredulously, ignoring his smartass comment.

'I'm gonna run each test the patient runs,' he affirmed.

'Really, Jess?'

'That's what I said, isn't it?'

'Why?'

'Because I'm a caring doctor?' he suggested.

'Are you trying to project on the patient?'

'That would be such an irresponsible and unwise thing to do,' Jess exclaimed in mock offense.

'God, Jess,' she shook her head, 'why are you doing this? Do you really believe that by running another set of tests you'll get to see again?'

'Sexy _and_ supportive,' he smirked. 'I can totally see why your patients adore you, pun intended.'

'Can we please skip the whole House-Cuddy banter, I'm really tired and if you have at least two sane neurons left, you'll be calling this whole teatro off right now.'

'Why do you care what I do?' he asked sharply and she couldn't tell if he was pushing her buttons out of pure wickedness or if he was genuinely interested in her answer.

'Honestly?'

Damn. She didn't expect her voice to crack like that. She must be really tired. She took a breath in and it stung her lungs.

'I keep asking myself the same question.'

She shook her head and started to leave then stopped.

'After that stunt you pulled at the cafeteria I thought I would be able to switch from loving to hating you. And I'm trying - believe me, I am. It's just...' her eyes skimmed his face, then she covered her mouth with the back of her hand, 'Shoot, I gotta get outta here.'

He stood motionless for a long moment, knowing her well enough to know she was telling the truth. She did try. Still, she couldn't not care. Maybe if they gave it a little more time. If he tried to be an even bigger ass. Maybe. But he stood there and in the blackness of an unseeing gaze, he realized this wasn't happening. She would care no matter what he did to deserve otherwise. And so would he. He would fucking care because he couldn't help it. He folded and unfolded his fists, the strain in his knuckles usually enough to help him concentrate. Not this time. Every time he thought he knew what he was up for, he felt worse. It felt wrong pushing her away. It felt wrong letting her in. Everything was such a mess.

He felt for the cigarette pack in his pocket. He felt the need to smoke to choke the need to follow her. He could fuck her over and over again and they would still feel love lurking a step behind. And he asked himself if he was making a colossal mistake.

If only he could make the impossible happen. If only he could get to see again.

* * *

 _Flap-flap-flap-flap-flap._

 _Knock-knock._

The door clicked open.

'Paris.'

Jess waved a hand, inviting her into the room.

A sigh. A few more flap-flaps until she reached the chair in front of Jess' desk and took a seat.

'I take it you're here to deliver your speech.'

She didn't reply. He clenched and unclenched his fists. Here you go, Mariano.

'You can save it,' he sighed. 'Let me spare you the effort - I'm a pig, the worst kind of heartless ass who's toying around with people's feelings. She doesn't deserve to be hurt like this blah-blah, she's only been patient and supportive, virtuous and-'

'I know why you're doing it,' Paris cut in, her voice serious but lacking it's usual edge.

For a moment Jess couldn't find a proper response. Then, after giving it some thought, he smiled snidely.

'Somehow I doubt it.' He raked a hand through his hair. 'Anyway, thanks for the thumbs up.'

'You want her to move on,' Paris continued, ignoring his antics. 'Really move on. You want her to step away and build a life of her own, but she can't do this while she's waiting for you to come around and accept your situation. That's why you're hurting her - you're trying to make her give up on you.'

Whoa. The woman was psychic. He had to give her that.

'I just wanted you to know that I know what you're doing,' Paris continued, 'and why.'

'You won't tell me I'm acting stupid?' he probed, doubtful.

'What you're doing is obscene,' she confirmed, her tone void of judgement. 'You're hurting her over and over again. But I get it,' she sighed. 'I would do the same for the person I love. Love is unapologetic and that's the only way it can be.'

Jess felt his whole wrought up posture deflate. He had prepared himself for war and not for... this.

'I just wanted you to know that I understand,' Paris said and he heard her stand up.

Her business tone made more sense now. She was trying not to show how the collateral damage was hurting her too. She was hurting for them in her own Paris robot-like way.

 _Flap-flap-flap-flap._

'I was this close to asking her to take me back,' Jess said so quietly he wondered if he'd even voiced the words. 'We got stuck in the elevator. I told her I missed her and if she hadn't cut me short, I would've begged her to take me back and make everything better. I would plead and grovel, I'd use every moral and immoral means to make her mine again.'

The door didn't click open, so Paris had to be standing by it, waiting. He must have said it all out loud.

'I thought I could go through with this,' he shook his head, referring to keeping away from Rory. 'I was wrong.'

He swallowed dryly. At that point, it was safe to say he missed her. He missed her every second. He missed her while he was awake and while he was sleeping. He missed the big and small things about her. Her voice, her smile, her laughter. Her crazy banter and quick wit. The way she would crack a joke in the hardest situation. He missed how she believed in him and thought so highly of his sorry ass. The sound of their apartment's door as it clicked open when she came back from work. The petty habits she chastised in him and the ones she had herself. She would always leave her morning cup of coffee in the sink. She would fill it with water but never wash it before work. It would just sit there waiting the whole day. That's what he was doing too, he realized. He was waiting for her to be back even when he realized that was not what he really wanted for them. Being with him under the circumstances they were in meant compromise and he never wanted her to compromise, he wanted her to have everything. And right now, he wasn't what she deserved. So he didn't want this for them. It was what he needed though.

'I need her to stay away because I don't think that I can,' he admitted grimly. 'I need her to willingly avoid me or else I'll break my resolve.'

'You love her enough to try and let her go,' Paris said, her voice sounding wary. 'I don't know if there's such a thing as justice, but if there is, you trying to get her to move on should count as something.'

'She knows the whole intern-thing was a stunt.'

'Of course she does. She knows you.'

Of course she did. She could tell if he was interested. She could tell if he was aroused or put off. She could read his tense body and tell when he had his palm over another woman's thigh and felt nothing but disdain for himself. Because she had seen the way he looked when he did want someone. When she was the one he held. Rory had read the desperation in his stunt and it left him with a bitter aftertaste.

Paris paused, mustering up the courage to finish what she had started to say.

'If you really want her to move on, though... you can't do it working at the same hospital, being around her all the time.'

He felt the blood draw off his face. Paris wasn't telling him anything he didn't already know, yet hearing it made it so much more real.

'If you're gonna go through with this, you should move further than out of her apartment. Excuse me,' she said and left the room in a rush. But not before he heard a tear on its way.

* * *

Tristan entered Jess' office, trying to brace his anger.

'Tristan.' Jess spun his swivel chair from side to side, his hands joined at the tips of his fingers.

Tristan closed the door behind his back. His jaw was set firm.

'You're such a show off, Mariano.'

'Says who.' Jess smiled a crooked smile. His eyes were hid behind a pair of sun shades but somehow Tristan knew they weren't smiling.

'So,' Tristan rubbed his hands together, 'let's get this over with. I came to tell you what an ass you are.'

Jess' brows moved up above the shades.

'Well you did.'

'You realize that you're hurting her right?'

'Who.'

The bastard. He knew perfectly well who. So much for bracing his anger.

'You know what? I don't care what twisted motives you have for doing what you do. But I want you to know that once she's over with you and she's broken and alone needing someone, I'll be close behind. Such women happen once in a lifetime and if you don't keep her, someone else will. I don't mind being that person.'

Tristan watched Jess' face carefully, looking for traces of emotion. Except for the tense line of his jaw, his expression looked calm and controlled. No signs of mind-numbing jealousy. Maybe Jess had in fact gone nuts. Or maybe he knew Tristan was bluffing. The only thing he said was,

'Good for you.'

Tristan huffed, suppressing the urge to smack Jess' head against the desk. He turned to leave but paused at the door, seemingly debating his next words.

'Oh what the hell,' he sighed then, as if losing a battle with himself. 'If you change your mind about making her miserable because you're too chickenshit scared to be loved, she'll forgive everything. Don't ask me how I know that, because it's the most obvious thing in a ten mile radius. Everybody can tell. She's still in love with you and she's gonna forgive all this shit. If only you would pull your head out of your ass.'

Jess stood silent behind him. Tristan shook his head, anger boiling again. He'd spent a good portion of time wishing for such kind of relationship upon himself. He liked to pretend he was okay with playing the field and enjoying a life without commitment to a woman, but at times of extreme honesty, he was ready to admit that all a man could hope for was to meet a woman worth being committed to and do his damnedest to keep her. And ironically, here he was, facing that guy who had admittedly found the love of his life and was doing his best to screw it over beyond fixing. It made him angry. He wasn't sure why, but it did.

'Fuck yourself, Mariano,' Tristan muttered and left the room.

Automaticity. It was the ability to operate against reason, against simple logic, driven by innate impulses that were generated by a place within, some place only you could understand.

Jess pulled his mobile out of his pocket and speed dialed the hospital telecommunication center.

'This is Dr Jess Mariano. Can you get me through to Dr Shefield? Beatrice Shefield, neurosurgeon. Yeah. Tell her it's about that consult I have discussed with her.'

* * *

 **TBC**


	36. Chapter 36

_Disclaimer : Ahh, still not mine. _Lyrics below belong to _Oh Wonder_ and are not mine either _._

 **A/N: This chapter is especially for** **fayevalcntine because she is honestly amazing and deserves a breather ;) Thank you everyone who cares to read and review :)  
**

* * *

 _'... Lose these hazy love lines_  
 _I've been chasing my mind..._

 _Cos I'm kicking up stones without you...  
And I'm digging down holes without you_

 _I'm a little bit lost without you  
Without you...'_

* * *

The July New York Sun was set high over the horizon, amidst a cloudless blue sky. Doctor Rory Gilmore was walking through the hospital parking lot balancing a to-go coffee cup and a couple of files. The sun reflected into her shades and freshly applied lipstick.

She entered the elevator greeting a couple of colleagues as she pulled her shades up. A couple of the male staff openly checked her out before greeting her back. She only beamed at them, not blaming their ogling because honestly? She would leer at herself too. Her legs looked mile-long in the white skinny jeans and brown cross strap heels. The tie-neck yellow silk top showcased her bare back and she had dressed to kill today. It was high time she ended that moping around pattern she'd been stuck into for the last two months and gave herself a boost of self-esteem.

When the doors opened at floor six she went out heading towards the lockers room and almost bumped into something black and silky. The young black Labrador lifted his muzzle, his curious dark eyes meeting hers for a moment before he got back to sniffing her toes. Rory secured her grip around the file folders in her hands and her look swung between the guide dog and the blind man holding its leash.

'What now?' Jess sighed exasperatedly, his features showing his irritation with the dog's constant indulgence into distractions. 'Come on, Cerberus,' he urged, pulling on the leash.

The name of the dog caused Rory's eyes to widen in shock. And amusement. Of course Jess would call an adorable almost-puppy Labrador Cerberus.

However, instead of listening to Jess' orders, the dog pulled forward and looked up at her. She took a step back and made him a hand gesture to move on mouthing ' _Go_.' Then, as the dog stood in place looking at her expectantly she repeated the gesture and mouthed ' _Please_ ' looking into his curious dark eyes pleadingly.

The dog gave her another good-natured studying look before padding away, leading a muttering Jess ( _Finally. Yeah, don't let me detain you._ ) behind.

Rory watched them as they made their way to the elevator and stopped. The Labrador sat down as they waited and just as the elevator doors slid open, turned back and gave her a look. She blinked twice, a little taken aback by the dog's calm eyes directed straight at her, then mouthed ' _Thank you_ ' before Cerberus stood up and led Jess into the elevator, both disappearing from her sight.

* * *

'Tristan.'

Tristan stopped at the sound of the familiar voice behind him and looked up at the ceiling, taking a calming breath before he turned back.

'Beatrice.'

He registered at the back of his mind that his voice sounded strained. It used to be patient at previous occasions. After their last encounter it was forced polite. At best. Well, if she pressed it any harder, it wouldn't be polite anymore.

Tristan watched as she approached him, her cat-like moves leading her forward, her eyes drinking him up. She stopped at an arm's length, reaching a hand to touch his arm.

'You look good,' she said, her eyes skimming his frame once again before returning to his eyes.

He stood straighter, slowly flexing and unflexing his knuckles. It was a simple concentration technique he'd learned at MMA trainings.

'I've been called for a consult,' she said, her palm still against his forearm, her thumb rubbing lazy circles against his skin.

Tristan drew his arm back an inch so that she was no longer touching him.

'When is your shift over,' she asked him, the look in her eyes intent, seemingly dismissing his distaste of her touch. 'We can catch up.'

'I'm not interested,' Tristan said darkly.

'Your friend Jess is asking me for some big favor.'

'Then maybe you can ask him to pay you back,' Tristan said between clenched teeth and turned to leave.

'Tristan,' her clear voice sounded. He didn't need to turn back to know she had a triumphant smile when she said, 'I'll see you around.'

* * *

Doctor Jess Mariano was feeling restless today. He'd sent one of her minions to find Beatrice Shefield. He couldn't imagine what was taking him so long. He was already behind with his schedule and it wasn't even noon yet. This devilish dog wasn't a good idea. He was wondering what possessed him to agree with the Chief's offer to get him a guide dog. The thing couldn't find the way towards its own tail for god's sake. Jess paced around his office, an uneasy feeling set deep into his gut, like the one you got when you forgot your keys some place - there was something he was missing but he couldn't quite process it it yet.

'Tell me Ronan's labs at admission again,' Jess turned towards the general direction of the redhead nerdy intern. The girl snapped out of a daydream and stood straighter, the end of her red braid slipping from between her teeth.

* * *

'He has a dog.'

Paris dug into her lunch and nodded while chewing onto her green salad.

'So I saw.'

'He has a dog,' Rory repeated, shaking her head in disbelief. 'The Chief let him get a dog on hospital ground.'

'After all, the Chief had the dog trained for him,' Helen pointed out and bit on her sandwich.

Paris made a semicircle with her fork.

'He has some deep guilt issues about the shooting.'

It was true the Chief kept making exceptions when it came to Jess' status in the hospital. For some reason he went out of his way to make adjustments so that Jess could be part of the hospital's routine now that so much had changed for him. The Chief was a little stuck up but had deep running sense of justice and on the whole was a very honorable man. He felt responsible that someone from his staff was hurt while performing their duties.

'What happened to his new 'assistant'?' Rory asked with fake gossip-enthusiasm.

'Not heard of after last week's fiasco,' Helen smirked.

'And now a dog. Is he gonna pretend he's sleeping with his dog too?' Rory muttered, narrowing her eyes as if she were actually considering the idea.

'Gross,' Helen shook her head.

'I don't think he's into that stuff anymore,' Paris noted, stabbing another mouthful of salad. 'The pretending I mean.'

Helen gave her a look. Paris rolled her eyes.

'What?'

Helen only shrugged, deciding not to comment.

Paris moved her look towards Rory's untouched plate.

'Are you gonna eat this? Because I'm scrubbing in for a kidney transplant with Robertson and you're offending this burger with your ignorance.'

Rory pushed her plate towards Paris distractedly, still lost in her own thoughts.

'How is his patient's testing going?' Rory asked matter-of-factly.

'Are you asking about Jess' patient or about Jess?' Paris asked with her mouth half full of burger.

Rory made a face.

'Jess' patient.'

'He's taking another round of tests,' Helen offered. 'They plan on performing a series of EEGs tomorrow in order to find if his occipital cortex is still able to get and proceed visual stimuli. It's quite cutting-edge.'

'You think there is a chance he might start seeing again?'

'Jess or Jess' patient?' Paris asked bluntly, winning another death glare by Rory.

Paris shrugged, finishing the burger and wiping her mouth with a paper napkin.

'I guess we're about to find out. Jess has asked for a consult with the one and only Beatrice Shefield.'

* * *

'What do you mean they don't know the circumstances under which the boy was hurt?'

The redheaded intern took her braid between her fingers, twirling the end nervously. She opened her mouth and then closed it, doctor Mariano's annoyed expression prompting her to think twice before answering.

'Ronan is suffering some severe PTSD. He won't talk about what happened. His last foster parents are nowhere to be found.'

Jess rubbed a fist against his jaw.

'Tell me the CT scan results again.'

The intern started reading with Jess making her stop and repeat certain details.

As they went through all lab results for what felt like the umpteenth time, Jess rubbed both hands through his hair, feeling the frustration settle back in. He had thought he would be able to solve this case. Most hard cases felt like cracking a code, you just needed the right set of mind, an adjustment in perspective, and they unraveled. Rory's case, however, didn't. Jess had been trying to find something she'd been missing for a couple of days now but hit a dead end every time. The nine-year old boy was lying in the ICU with extensive internal organ trauma and they had no idea what had happened to get him so severely hurt. They had to find a way to get the boy to talk. Otherwise they were shooting blindly. Well he was, anyway.

A knock on the door tore Jess from his thoughts.

'Doctor Mariano?' a luscious female voice said.

Jess turned towards the door.

'Doctor Shefield. I've been expecting you.'

* * *

'You saw the way she eyed Tristan like a piece of meat? And boy did she try to paw him,' Rory shook her head, 'That woman is a maneater.'

'I don't know,' Paris rested back against her chair and cracked her neck. It had been a long surgery. Scrubbing in with Robertson for a kidney transplant was like watching an artist work. You couldn't rush him to do what he did, or it would lose its magic. But boy did it kill her legs and neck.

'Tristan is a grown-up man,' Paris yawned before taking another gulp of her coffee. 'I doubt some cougary-prone hot neurosurgeon is gonna give him a hard time.'

'You seen her?'

'Once, right before she operated on Nanny. Come on, Rory, she looks like a Claudia Schiffer impersonification. Plus she has golden hands. She's a magician in the OR, I doubt any male specimen with functioning balls would need much persuasion to jump into the sack with her.'

Rory didn't seem convinced.

'You seen her with Tristan?' she asked.

'There's something specific you're trying to tell me or are you just playing twenty questions? Because I'm starting a night shift in four hours, I'm gonna try and take a nap,' Paris said finishing her coffee.

'She makes him uncomfortable,' Rory insisted. 'He's tense around her, guarded. There's something there, I tell you.'

Rory looked at Paris expecting her to disagree but her friend had dozed off over the break room's couch. Rory watched her for a moment, then shook her head and took her white coat off, throwing it over Paris' shoulders.

* * *

Doctor Rory Gilmore suppressed a yawn as she walked out of the hospital's library a couple of hours later. She had tried to research new information about Ronan's case but it kept going in circles.

Her feet were hardly keeping her balance over the heels and she had second thoughts about self-esteem boosters. Heels weren't a friend. Heels were evil.

Something moved before her. She saw the black Labrador and almost simultaneously heard a familiar voice muttering about being better off with blindman GPS than being led by a dog who suffered ADHD.

Her eyes shortly locked with a dark pair of calm dog's eyes and the next moment she was stumbling forward, Cerberus' name and Jess' voice registering at the back of her mind, as well as the feeling of the strained leash around her shins.

She fell forward, colliding with the man in front of her who had been pulled forward by the dog himself. As his arms closed around her by reflex, steadying them both, there was a short moment where neither of them consciously registered the other or the circumstances. There were just random facts about their surroundings. Like a pair of male hands around her or a whiff of woodsy cologne. Like soft bare skin and the sound of a surprised whimper. Then, like water through a crack, the realization of the impact and of each other sunk in. Both could feel the exact moment when the realization hit fully because both of them stilled, his palms against her bare back stiffening and her chin against his collar bone clenching. And then the most incredible thing happened. Rory felt Jess' arms unflex slightly, his tense palms losing their strain and feeling warm against the bare skin of her back. She let her own frustration out on a slow exhale.

Both of them relaxed into each other, their previous death grip resembling an embrace now without as much movement as a millimeter. They breathed shallow breaths, mindful not to break the frail moment but at the same time feeling like for the first time in months an enormous weight was lifted off their shoulders. They let each other's presence sink in and for once it brought comfort instead of anguish. And for a moment all was right in the world.

* * *

'Here,' Tristan handed Paris a steaming to-go cup. 'Triple espresso, your favorite.'

Paris narrowed her eyes at him and looked around. They were alone which wasn't such a surprise given it was the middle of their night shift. She put down the charts she had been doing over the nurses station counter.

'You know when you're on a precipice and feel tingles down your spine, feeling that strong urge to jump?'

'Uh-huh?'

'I'm not gonna jump.'

'All... right?

'I'm not gonna jump.'

'Heard ya.'

'But I could develop some feeling beyond disgust for a guy like you. Which I won't. But hypothetically. I could fall for a guy like you.'

Tristan's pupils dilated with a glint of surprise.

'I could because you're an okay guy, Dugray,' she sighed. 'I simply choose not to.'

Now he was looking at her with an amused sparkle in his eyes, still holding the cup of steaming coffee out for her.

'I'm not gonna throw my underwear across the room, Tristan.'

'Now that's putting some great visuals in my head.'

'See?' she threw her hands up shaking her head. 'You know what will be written on your thombstone - _Died Horny_ \- that's what.'

Tristan's eyes narrowed, a thought just now occurring to him. He left the coffee on the counter of the nurse's station.

'Is this about other women?' he asked, his voiced colored by confusion. 'You think I'm gonna string you along?'

Even though this was a pretty obvious answer, it wasn't the truth. Not that Paris considered his fascination with her anything more than defending his honor of Ovary-Whisperer. But this wasn't really her concern. And she wasn't going to lie to him.

'Look, Tristan. I am a single mom who is struggling with her surgical career. My life is complicated enough without throwing a torrid affair into the mix.'

'You've thought about it,' Tristan folded his arms before his chest. 'And you used the word torrid.'

Paris rose a hand, palm out to make him stop.

'Even if I was madly in love with you which I'm not, I wouldn't want any more complications in my life. Look, you're dumb but you're not that dumb, you have to get it. I don't have room for a guy in my life. Can you accept that? Discuss it with your overbearing masculinity and get back to me when you have an answer.'

Their eyes locked for a while. Then Tristan gave her a nod.

'Okay.'

'Okay?'

'Okay, Paris,' he said with a reassuring smile. 'I guess I can... step down and stop harassing you. If that's what you want. So, friends?' he offered her his hand.

Paris frowned. Like Tristan Dugray could be friends with anything with ovaries. Oh whatever.

She shook his hand briefly, suspiciously. Watching as his smile grew wider. The typical poster boy. Offering his friendship.

There was a feeble feeling of comfort that settled between them. She could reach for it and maybe hold on for a scarce moment before life swept her up in its whirl again. She shook her head, shaking his gaze off her. She was bad at love. Or anything close to it. She didn't want to lie to herself anymore. She had met the love of her life and they'd blown it. Aside from her love for Josh, she had no place in her life for any more caring. Falling for Tristan would be a mistake. But she found herself wondering if she was willing to make it.

She took the to-go coffee cup form the nurse's station counter where he had left it and walked away, taking a sip. And he had been right, it was just as she loved it.

* * *

 **TBC**


	37. Chapter 37

_Disclaimer : Still nothing's mine (I don't know why). Guess what I do have will do until I wake up one morning owning all else :)_

 **A/N: A pretty intense chapter for me to write. I hope the way it turned out keeps you interested :) Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read and review, your feedback is very important to me! Enjoy :)**

* * *

'You sure look cheerful tonight,' Jess noted, holding the punch bag for Tristan as Tristan kept pounding at it, throwing a knee-kick every now and then between punches. He was applying much more force than usual which had to mean something given how laid-back and unrushed Dugray normally was.

'No need to talk my ear off,' Jess probed again.

Tristan didn't reply, punching the bag repeatedly. His blows were quick and smooth, precised. The guy was losing himself in the physical exertion and Jess knew better than to press it. He of all people knew the feeling. It was like being buried under a pile of sand bags trying to find your way out, it felt like being physically suffocated and you tried and tried to beat your way through the obstacles. Sometimes breaking some sweat helped. Others, not so much.

As they wrestled later on, Jess registered how much of his actual strength Tristan had been holding back before. Jess had suspected that Dugray had been easy on him in their sparring, the way a coach would not throw his hardest punches against his trainees. But tonight Jess got a glimpse of what an actual fight between the two of them would be like. To sum it up, Tristan would be winning. By a far stretch. And as much as the guy annoyed the hell out of him, Jess had to admit that Dugray had somehow been there for him through the last couple of months. And those couple of months happened to be the worst in Jess' conscious life so far. Maybe that's why Jess couldn't help the curiosity that crept its way as to the reason why Tristan had suddenly turned from his annoying chatterbox self into a closed off one-syllable man. There had to be a reason. That, or Jess had rubbed off on Tristan more than he knew. Huh.

* * *

Paris looked around the Chief's office.

'Geller, make yourself comfortable,' Chief started with a calm smile, 'I asked you here to discuss something that is of great importance to me.'

Paris looked around again. Then resumed eye contact and nodded.

'O-kay. Chief.'

'Please, sit,' he made her a gesture to sit down. She did, feeling slightly uncomfortable. Being called by the Chief strongly resembled being called in the principal's office. It was never something to anticipate. Ah, high school never ended right?

'I've been Chief of surgery of this hospital for more than a year now and feel it my responsibility to follow my staff surgeon's career very closely.'

Paris stood straighter into the leather chair. What was he saying? Was he displeased with her work? Was he giving her a warning? As a mother she did her best to balance between her duties as a parent and as a surgeon but who was she kidding, time was never enough. She could've finished her PHD if she hadn't decided to cut the extra hospital hours and spend more time with Josh lately.

'I've been taking special time to look into your work. Ever since the court trial against Mariano where the previous Chief lost his job.'

Okay then. Let it be quick and clean. Get it over with, Paris thought, her cold fists folding into her lap. You're fired, end of story.

'I want you to be next Chief of surgery,' he said, leaving Paris open-mouthed. 'I know you're behind with your PHD but I'm willing to give you a looser deadline and have you trained to be the leader I believe you are.'

Paris tried to find her voice but couldn't. Finally, she managed to gather herself enough to say,

'Can I... Can I think about it?'

The Chief gave her a surprised look as if to say what is there to think about, but then gave her a nod with a good-natured smile.

'Of course. Think about it, Geller. But know that this is a one in a lifetime oppportunity.'

'It is. You're right. It is.' Paris nodded, still flustered. 'And I am grateful. I just... need to wrap my mind around it.'

'Do. You have until the end of next week to give me your answer. And, Paris?'

She looked up at him.

'Think wisely.'

'Yes, Chief. Thank you. Sir.'

* * *

The man and the young boy entered the mosque building hand in hand.

The boy looked up at the man. Both their eyes were sad. Especially the man's.

'What should I say?' the boy asked.

The man squatted down in front of the boy, leaning one arm against his knee, his other hand still holding the boy's.

'You can say whatever you feel like saying,' he said calmly. 'You can talk. You can keep silent. We go in there and you do whatever feels right.'

The boy's amber eyes flickered with a flair of self-consciousness.

'You gonna stay with me right?'

'I'm not going anywhere, kiddo.'

'I miss her,' the boy said almost timidly.

'Yeah,' the man said quietly, looking down at their shoes. 'Me too.'

'You know what her superpower is?' the boy said then, his eyes glittering with a wave of determination. 'She knows we miss her and we're all right because we are together. She knows it.'

The man clenched his jaw and looked up at the ceiling for a moment before he looked back at the boy.

'Dad?'

'Yes, tiger?'

'I love you.'

The man's jaw was set firm and he gave the boy a quick nod as he stood up, the lump in his throat preventing him from voicing an answer. He squeezed the boy's hand and they exchanged small smiles, entering the mosque's praying area. As they stepped over the blue carpet, they steadied themselves in order to say a prayer for the woman they loved and who had been taken away from them on this very date four years ago.

* * *

'You okay?' Aiden asked a couple of hours later, studying Tristan's thoughtful face.

They were sitting on a bench facing the Brooklyn Bridge after spending the day outside. There was an unopened box of Turkish delight sitting on the bench between them. It was tradition to eat some on days like this but neither of the two felt like it today and the box stood unopened between them.

Tristan rested his elbows over his knees, letting his head hang for a moment before looking back at Aiden.

'We have a hard case with a boy. He's about your age and he's very ill.'

'What's his name?' Aiden asked, leaning forward too.

'Ronan.'

'Like Ronan the Accuser?' Aiden gasped enthusiastically.

'Yeah,' Tristan smiled a weary smile. 'Like Ronan the Accuser. We've been trying to find a way to help him but we keep failing and it made me think of how helpless sometimes we are to prevent bad things from happening.'

To bring your mom back. To have acted earlier. To have saved her when I still got the chance to.

'Don't mind me,' Tristan ruffled Aiden's hair with a sigh. 'I'm tired and getting cranky.'

Aiden ducked and smoothed his hair.

'Do Ronan's friends come and see him in the hospital?' he asked.

'He's pretty much on his own,' Tristan answered grimly.

Aiden focused on the rays of the setting sun reflected by East River's smooth surface. Then he looked back at Tristan.

'Do you think Ronan likes Harry Potter?'

Tristan gave him a look. Gave it some thought.

'I have a hunch he might.'

'Can we go see him, bring him some Turkish delight?'

Tristan felt the beginning of a smile pull at the corners of his mouth.

'Sure.'

'Come on, let's go, I wanna ask him which Hogwarts house he's in,' Aiden stood up and started for the car. 'Don't forget the delight, dad,' he called over his shoulder.

* * *

'He's taken the first round of EEGs and they look promising,' Paris dropped on the couch next to Rory where Rory was reading an Internal Organ Trauma textbook.

'Who.'

Paris gave her a no nonsense look.

'Jess. And his temporal tumor blind guy patient. But I meant Jess. Badass hunky dark hair dark shades guy walking around with his black Labrador? Used to be like a lovesick leech all over you until a bullet in the head triggered his insecurity complex and he went all dark and twisty? Rings a bell?'

Rory flipped another page of the textbook she'd been reading, feigning indifference.

'And why should this be of any current concern to me?'

Paris folded both arms before her chest.

'Really, Gilmore? Because I know it, the whole hospital knows it, even his puppy guide dog knows it - it does concern you, you've been dying to know how Jess' testing is going.'

'What does the dog have to do with it?'

'Oh please,' Paris rolled her eyes. 'The thing has been dragging Jess all around the hospital following your tracks.'

It was true. They kept stumbling upon each other. In the cafeteria. Up the stairs. In exam rooms. The black spawn was like a Rory radar, he kept dragging Jess after her, winning smirks and gossipy whispers from the hospital staff. Cerberus. Who knew his name was so true to his real nature? The devious creature was clearly sent from Satan to make her life living hell.

'The dog has a crush on you,' Paris mused. 'That, or Jess took a pair of your panties when he moved out and the dog sniffed them.'

Rory's head snapped up in surprise.

'The sneaky bastard!' she gasped.

Paris looked a bit taken aback.

'I was actually trying to piss you off into admitting that you care but... oh well,' she rubbed the back of her head.

Rory gave her a confused look.

'Paris, what are you talking about?'

'So Mariano has a panty-fetish, no need to make a fuss about it,' Paris shrugged trying to be the bigger person here.

'What?.'

'Didn't you say that-'

'My shower gel was missing. I thought the moving company misplaced it into the garbage.'

'Boring, boring,' Paris shook her head with a sigh.

Rory's eyes were narrow, lost in indignation, ignoring her friend's comment.

'How does he have the nerve to break up with me and then take my stuff,' Rory vented. 'He doesn't get to take a trophy. He doesn't get to miss me when he is the one walking away. He doesn't get to embrace me and then act as if nothing happened.'

Paris was about to question her about the embrace thing but her mobile rang with Shania Twayn's ' _That don't impress me much_ '.

'Yes, Dugray.'

Rory arched an eyebrow.

 _Really?_ She mouthed.

Paris shrugged, mouthing _What?_. As she listened to Tristan her features stilled for a moment before surprise was written all over her face. She slowly let the hand holding the mobile down, looking directly at Rory, excitement radiating off her.

'Ronan talked.'

* * *

'Tristan,' Beatrice Shefield reached a hand to touch his arm and winced as he withdrew it. 'We need to talk.'

'I don't think so,' he replied without moving his look away from the patient's charts he'd been doing at the nurse's station.

'I miss you.'

He let out a snide smile.

'Save it.'

'Look I get it you're pissed off about last time,-'

'Pissed off?' Tristan let out a derisive laugh, turning to give her a look. 'I'm not pissed off with you Bea, I'm simply over.'

'You better think twice before you talk to me like that,' Beatrice's voice grew colder, bossy. She straightened up and her eyes flashed warningly. 'Your sparring buddy is asking me to take a wild chance on his temporal lobe tumor blind patient.'

She watched for a reaction but Tristan's expression didn't waver. Okay then.

'He wants me to take a wild chance on his patient. And probably on himself, if his patient's surgery is successful.'

'What?'

Beatrice's blue eyes flashed with delight, feeling the power of her position.

'Don't you know?' she took a step towards Tristan. 'Mariano has been trying to find out if the bullet is taken out he might start seeing again.'

Tristan ran a hand through his hair with a huff.

'That's insane. It's too close to the internal carotid, he'll get himself killed.'

Beatrice lifted her chin, meeting his eyes, taking another step towards him, stopping an inch from his jaw.

'Not if I talk him out of it.'

'What do you want?' he hissed, although he knew the answer.

'Just one night,' she lifted a hand to touch his cheek. He drew away.

'You need help,' he shook his head.

She gripped at his arm.

'I need you Tristan.'

'No you don't.'

'I love you.'

 _A couple of months ago when you last set an ultimatum you didn't love me. You loved the power to make me do what you wanted._

'Your love is tainted. You don't really care about anyone but yourself.'

'I need you. I'm addicted to you.'

'You're addicted to bossing someone around, having them attend to your needs. I'm no longer that person, Bea.'

With a determined move he snatched his arm out of her grip and walked away taking the chart with him. Leaving one of the most powerful women in modern surgeon history wipe a tear off her cheek alone in a hospital corridor.

* * *

Paris rung the bell once and waited. She thought about ringing it again but told herself to wait for another ten seconds before doing so, because only desperate people rang a bell like there was no tomorrow. She counted to twenty, just to be sure. Then rung again. Maybe he wasn't home. Maybe he was at work. No he isn't, she thought. Because she had checked his schedule and he was off tonight. Okay, whatever. One last time. Because she wasn't a desperate person, right? She lifted her arm to ring again when the door clicked open and a very bare-chested, bed-haired Tristan appeared at the door barefoot. He paused when he saw her, his hand still at the door handle. He looked surprised, to put it mildly. She licked her lips.

'Hi.'

'Paris.'

'Is...' she looked to the side and smoothed her hair in a nervous gesture. 'Is Aiden here?'

Tristan blinked once, his brows furrowing slightly.

'He's at a friend's house, staying the night. Did you... did you come here looking for Aiden?'

'I...' she took a breath in and exhaled it sharply. 'Did you really mean that thing about being friends?' she asked.

'Triis,' a high-pitched woman's voice sounded from the inside of the apartment behind him. 'Who is it?' And then, in a lower-pitched tone that sounded like some sultrier version of _Let's bang some more_ , 'Are you coming back?'

Paris recognized the voice, it was one of the giggly flat-brained preppy nurses who were gushing all over anything male in a ten mile radius.

Paris looked up at him and his expression was still a puzzled one, as if he was struggling to find what she was doing at his door. Not a trace of guilt. He didn't behave like someone who was 'being caught'. Because he had been completely open with her. She had to give him credit for that. He had told her he would step down. He had. And moved back to his previous routine, screwing nameless bimbos.

'Maybe another time,' Paris uttered and gave him a curt nod before she left without another word, taking the stair steps down two at a time.

* * *

Paris padded towards her front door with a frown. Whoever had decided to ring her bell at that hour of the night better had some good reason.

As she opened the door her frown transformed into surprise.

'I did mean it,' Tristan lifted two paper bags with what she guessed was takeaway. 'Still need a friend?'

'The Chief offered me to be next Chief of surgery,' Paris blurted.

Tristan gave her disconcerted appearance another look and nodded towards the paper bags in his hand.

'I got a bottle of wine in there.'

...

'And I can't fall asleep at night lately, I need to listen to an audiobook or some music. It's so loud in my head, I can't hear my own thoughts anymore. And with Josh I have no idea what I'm doing. Sometimes I feel like I'm a good parent but then there's always a ton of stuff to do and I'm always on the clock. I'm behind with my PHD. If I take up on the Chief's offer, I have no idea what's gonna happen. I already have my hands full as it is. I'm like a hamster running on a wheel and it never, ever stops. I'm so tired of feeling tired. I'm tired of feeling like I'm behind my own life. I'm tired of listening to my own voice and I'm just...'

Tristan offered her a glass of wine and she took it feeling grateful he was silently listening to her ramble.

'No funny business though,' she pointed a forefinger between her and him.

He paused in front of the fridge, holding a still unopened beer in his hand, and gave her a look. Paris Geller was a science genius but when it came to people's motives sometimes she was as perceptive as that.

'I left the funny business unfinished in my apartment to gather her things. She was wearing a teddy. Wouldn't be if I were there instead of here.'

Paris opened her mouth and then closed it. Somehow, his words brought a rare cringe in her chest. Surely, the teddy-wearing bimbo wasn't happy with tonight's course of events. Word was he had turned down Shefield. Beatrice freaking Shefield. And he'd turned her down. And Rory was right, there was bad blood there, and somehow Paris felt it was related to their meeting for Nanny's surgery. When Shefield had exclusively asked for Tristan's presence during the surgery it had seemed a bit strange but Paris had ignored it, being too concerned for Nanny to pay attention to any minor details. Now she strained to remember more about Tristan and Shefield's exchange back then but all she remembered was Tristan gave off a rather reserved vibe while Shefield all but felt him up during the surgery. _Damn._ This was it, wasn't it? They had joked that Tristan would need to prostitute himself in order to get Shefield there but now Paris wondered how much of the joke was actually true. The woman was obviously powerful and she was out to get Tristan. There was irony in it. Tristan Ovary-Whisperer Dugray being the subject to sexual harassment. Whoa.

But somehow Paris didn't find the irony funny. Because he was a decent guy. He never lied to his one-night stands about what they were to him. And he had left a willing one-night stand, well, standing. She couldn't be happy about it. Tristan knew it and yet here he was - paying home visit to Paris Geller, worn-out mother of one, tired and bitchy med-bot who had almost forced herself on him a couple of weeks ago. He knew what he was trading his night of exotic brainless fun for and he was here nonetheless, dealing with her mess.

'Alcohol helps me get on my good side,' she offered with a shrug.

'Now that's more like it,' Tristan smirked and moved on to the kitchen counter to open his beer. 'Cheers, my friend.'

Truce.

* * *

'He's got his act in the bedroom all right but otherwise, he's no boyfriend material.'

Paris recognized that voice. It was the high-pitched voice of the stood up teddy-wearing bimbo from Tristan's apartment. So here she was, one of the preppy nurses. Paris looked at Tristan. His eyes loked calm but jaw was set firm as he continued talking to one of their colleagues at the nurse's station, discussing a patient. Paris narrowed her eyes at the preppy nurse and her friends who were still whispering something and looking at him shaking their heads a couple of feet away.

'Dugray,' she approached him with a couple determined steps. Both Tristan and the other doctor stopped talking and looked at her. 'Yesterday you were amazing. You...' she met his eyes and gave him a pointed look, remembering a time when he'd said something that helped her. 'You rock. Thank you.'

She touched his shoulder and propped herself up as she left a chaste peck on his jaw. Tristan looked flustered as she gave him an uncharacteristically non-menacing smile before she was on her way down the corridor. The preppy nurse's jaw was hanging open by the time Paris passed her by.

Paris let a satisfied smirk creep up her lips, continuing on her way towards the Chief's office.

* * *

'What do you mean you turned the offer down?'

Rory stopped and stared at Paris in disbelief.

'I don't have time for anything even as things are now,' Paris shrugged. 'If I become Chief I won't be able to be much of a mother to Josh anymore.'

'But it's something you've always wanted,' Rory narrowed her eyes.

Paris thought about it for a moment. She thought of Josh's face when she was home this morning and woke him up to take to kindergarten. The way his eyes lit at the realization his mom was home and was taking him personally.

'Well, I guess the price I'd have to pay was too high,' Paris shrugged with a calm smile. She finally felt at peace with herself. It hadn't happened for a long, long while. 'I chose what's worth more.'

'Rory...' Helen caught up with them, hardly catching her breath.

'They're performing the next set of EEGs today.'

'O-kay.'

She gave them a worried look.

'For this set of EEGs the patient should be in drug-induced coma.'

'Do you...' Rory narrowed her eyes, realization dawning on her. 'Do you really think he'd go that far?'

'How badly does Jess want his sight back?' Paris said.

'We need to get to him.'

* * *

 **TBC**


	38. Chapter 38

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine. Yet. Oh who am I kidding :)_

 _Lyrics below belong to SYML._

* * *

Rory stumbled into his office, closely followed by Paris and Helen. Jess was sitting behind his desk, holding his mobile. Cerberus was lying in his feet. As the three women crashed into his office the dog jumped to a start position and let out a woof. Jess looked in the direction of the door, his brows furrowing slightly.

'Oh boy.'

'I should've never given up on fitness. Damn.'

'See, he's not even unconscious.'

Jess' expression gradually switched from confused to amused.

'Ladies,' he put his mobile back into his pocket, 'to what do I owe the honor?'

'Okay, I'm getting back to the OR, vasectomy's calling,' Paris said and started to walk out of the room. 'You coming?' she made Helen who was still standing, clueless, an impatient gesture, taking her by the arm and leading her out of the room.

As the door closed behind them with a click, Rory licked her lips, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to set some order into her chaotic thoughts. So they just burst into his office like a SWAT team closing in on a high-profile criminal. An explanation was probably due. Preferably now. Any time now.

'Okay, so we were thinking how far you were going to go with that thing about taking every test your patient takes.'

Jess' brows arched up.

'What did you think, that I would inject myself with muscle relaxant and get myself unconscious only to prove I could get my sight back?'

Rory didn't reply. She took a steadying breath and looked at Cerberus who had sat down onto his hind paws, his back against Jess' shin. She didn't know what to think anymore.

'We need to talk,' she gave out a sigh.

'You and me?' Jess asked, his voice a bit unsure. His features seemed to hesitate between keeping up a nonchalant appearance and showing apprehension.

'No, me and the dog.'

Jess didn't reply, probably thinking she was being sarcastic.

'I mean that. We have to talk to your dog - he can't keep following me all around the hospital.'

She gave the black Labrador a pointed look. Cerberus wagged his tail.

'It's you I'm talking about, mister,' she folded her arms before her chest. 'You can't keep doing that. I know your sneaky owner has my shower gel somewhere into this lonely cave of his but you should know that stealing people's shower gels is a bad, creepy thing to do and it doesn't mean anything because although he's desperately missing me he's far too pigheaded to get over himself and deal with his inferiority complex so please, please stop dragging him behind me because it's hurting me really bad. Can you do that, Cerberus?'

Cerberus wailed once, sadly. And Rory couldn't block the association with a kid of divorced parents. Well, mommy and daddy aren't together anymore, kiddo. Better take it in stride.

'I mean that, Cerberus,' Rory sighed. 'You have to stop this.'

There was a beat of silence and the dog twisted his neck to look up at Jess, as if searching for confirmation.

Jess was sitting in his chair, not moving a muscle. He seemed to have fallen under some spell.

Cerberus stood up and moved to put his muzzle over Jess' knee, looking at him expectantly.

'Are you gonna say something?' Rory asked exasperatedly, her strength draining out of her.

Jess was torn out of his trance and moved a hand to pet the dog's head. He took a breath and looked down at him.

'I told you she's amazing,' Jess said, his voice strained. Then he cleared his throat and continued, his unshed eyes directed at the dog. 'But you really need to stop trying to push us together. It's not fair to her. I...,' he swallowed, looking up in Rory's direction. 'I don't wanna hurt her anymore. She only deserves otherwise.'

He licked his lips.

'I wish there was another way.'

Rory held her breath at the mixture of sadness and determination in his eyes and for a moment she lost herself in them. When the pull at her chest became too much to bear she turned to go.

Cerberus wailed.

Rory turned back at the door.

'Take care of him, will you?' she said softly.

Jess nodded with a stoic expression, not realizing her last words were directed at the dog and not to him.

Rory went out of Jess' office and hurried down the corridor, wondering if meeting Jess in person would ever get any less emotionally exhausting. _I wish there was another way._ Me too, she thought. She had reached the stairs when the realization hit her. Jess wasn't talking about what was already done. He was referring to what he was about to do. _What did you think, that I would inject myself with muscle relaxant and get myself unconscious only to prove I could get my sight back?  
_ Rory turned on her heel and ran as fast as she could.

As she stormed into Jess' office, Cerberus was barking above an unconscious Jess who was lying on the floor, an intubation set prepared beside him, his mobile resting by his open fingers, right next to the used syringe and empty Anectine ampoule. The reanimation team burst into the room not a couple of seconds later making their way past a numb Rory. They had undoubtedly gotten a call by Dr Mariano, telling them in his office there was an unconscious patient who needed emergency intubation.

* * *

 _'If you bled, I bleed the same_  
 _If you're scared, I'm on my way'_

Rory stood on a bench in the waiting area of the ICU, her arms hanging limply by her scrubs-clad frame. She had just yelled at her boss. She had made sure Jess was taken care of and then went to the Chief's office, yelling at him for not stopping this craze earlier. The Chief had let them perform the EEGs and Jess was currently intubated and scanned. It was too much. Someone had to stop this. Damn, she had to have stopped this.

'Hey,' Paris took her surgical cap off, dropping into the seat next to Rory. 'The surgery went on longer than expected. I came as soon as I heard. How is he?'

Rory looked ahead blindly.

'I keep failing. I'm doing my best and I keep failing. It's all slipping away from me. Whatever I try to fix gets broken.'

Paris sighed and rested her head back against the wall and her palm against Rory's shoulder.

'Maybe some things are beyond your ability to fix.'

They stood for a while, with Paris' hand resting over Rory's shoulder.

'Be kind to yourself.'

'What?'

'Be kind to yourself. That's what my therapist told me,' Paris said.

Rory kept silent, feeling another damp trail roll down her cheek.

'I think sleeping with Tristan was the kindest thing I've done to myself lately.'

Rory opened her mouth and then closed it. Something told her Paris wasn't done sharing.

'He's just so... I don't know,' Paris sighed with frustration, 'full of fluff.'

Rory rose an eyebrow involuntarily, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. Paris gave her a scowl.

'Don't look at me like that. I can't handle cute. I can handle grumpy or neurotic. But he's just so... loving.'

Paris said the last word with obvious disgust.

'He's like a magical unicorn, strutting around puking rainbows.'

Rory thought she couldn't crack a smile. But she did. And she gave her friend a grateful look, knowing Paris was changing subject to make light of the situation because Rory didn't need any more drama.

'Hey,' Helen joined them a couple of minutes later. 'He in there?' she motioned towards the ICU.

Both Paris and Rory nodded.

'I'll just hang around here for a while,' she said taking the seat on the other side of Rory.

'I'm gonna kick his ass,' Tristan appeared from around the corner another couple of minutes later, shoving his surgical cap into his scrubs pocket. 'Like, literally kick his ass.'

He ran a hand through his hair and threw a sideways look at the ICU.

'He okay?'

They nodded.

He sat down on the floor against the opposite wall, elbows propped over his knees.

'Mind if I join the party?' he asked, looking up at them.

'You're welcome... Shania.'

They looked at one another and somehow laughter made it all better, if even for a moment.

* * *

 _'Did you run away?_  
 _Did you run away? I don't need to know_  
 _If you ran away_  
 _If you ran away, come back home_  
 _Just come home'_

* * *

 **TBC**


	39. Chapter 39

_Disclaimer : Nothing's mine._

 ** _A/N: Dear Reader,_**

 ** _what a journey, right?_**

 ** _I am so grateful to each and every one of you who made it to this point, because you made this ride such an adventure for me._**

 ** _Special, heartfelt thanks to_ Nancy _,_ jordana60 _and of course,_** **fayevalcntine _, for their continuous and inspiring support - you've been here for every step of the way and for that I'm forever grateful, dear!_**

 ** _Hope you enjoy this chapter and everything that's to come after it :)_**

* * *

Jess felt around the wall to find his way into the gallery. He'd left Cerberus to wait in front of the door, not wanting the dog to create a fuss in the gallery where probably everyone who wasn't in surgery had gathered to watch. After all, it was the surgery of the year. Shefield operating on Julian Thompson, also popular as Mariano's Temporal Tumor Guy, the tumor locus so close to the internal carotid artery that the risk of the surgery was much higher than the acceptable. Yet, the tumor had already started to cause brain compression and Jess' patient needed the surgery because it was his chance to survive. And if he survived, he'd probably get his sight back. There was that. Because the tests had turned positive. And so did Jess'. Because he had taken every single test Julian Thompson did. Including last week's round of EEGs. As soon as Jess woke from his self-induced four-hour coma last Wednesday, he heard the Chief's voice. The Chief wasn't happy, to put it mildly. _Who the hell did you think you were, Mariano? This has gotten too far._ For a moment Jess feared they hadn't performed the last round of tests due to his irrational behavior. Luckily, the Chief had let them. If Mariano was willing to get as far as that, he had to be desperate. Probably that's what the Chief had thought. And he would be right.

Jess entered the gallery and felt for a seat close to the door. He heard Paris' voice. It was close, she must be a couple of seats away from him. She was commenting on something concerning Shefield's choice of craniotomy technique and drill model. Her voice died abruptly when Jess entered the gallery.

'How's it going?' he asked in her general direction.

Paris huffed. Jess imagined she was shaking her head. After the EEG incident last week she was mad at him. Everyone he knew was mad at him. He couldn't blame them. He'd probably be mad at him too. They all thought he had gone crazy. They didn't understand. Couldn't. He knew he had no right to blame them. They were simply concerned about him. But how could he not do anything in his power to find if there was a chance for him to get back what he'd lost? If only he could get it back, if there was the slightest chance for him to see the light of day again, it could mean he could get her back. If there was the slightest ounce of hope, how could he pass it by and ignore the chance? This patient was a sign. Jess had to take the risk or leave it. And he had never been one to let fear rule him.

Jess heard Tristan's voice somewhere from the back.

'Dugray?'

'I gave up playing translator to suicidal asses,' Tristan muttered.

Really? Jess gripped at the end of his seat so tight his knuckles strained painfully. He knew they had the right to be mad but they had no idea what this surgery meant to him.

He felt the air shift beside him as someone took the seat next to him. He felt her presence, right next to him. It was everywhere - from her deliberately slow breaths to her doing something with her hair and the light fruity fragrance of her shampoo.

'She just did a bone flap. She's crossing the dura, reaching the temporal lobe.'

Jess stood motionless, feeling his knuckles go numb, the numbness spreading through his arms and shoulders to the rest of his body, small pins prickling his face. And then her voice broke through the haze.

'She's making room for the internal carotid clamp and dissecting the internal carotid. The tumor is seen clearly in the operative field now.'

He felt a strong wave of warmth rush through his body, an overwhelming feeling of awe replacing the initial shock. He listened as Rory walked him through each step of the ongoing surgery, and somewhere during the operation his hand found hers and his fingers closed around hers. As Shefield completed the surgery, everyone started clapping. Only Jess stood frozen with Rory's hand still in his. His breathing was fast, his heartbeat erratic and his throat felt paper-dry. He could hear Rory held a breath before letting it out and slipping her palm from under his.

'It's still too dangerous,' she said, her voice wavering, and left him sitting in the gallery, her voice somehow louder in his head than the applause around him.

* * *

 _'I think I might've inhaled you_

 _I can feel you behind my eyes'_

Jess Mariano's doorbell rang once. Twice. A pause. Another double ring. Cerberus woofed.

Jess was sitting on his couch, his arms braced against his knees. Cerberus woofed again.

Jess stood up and went towards the balcony. Cerberus followed. As Jess opened the door, the dog went out on the balcony and Jess closed it, ignoring the dog's indignant woofing.

He took his previous place over the living room couch. The bell rang again. There was thump-thumping over the door.

'Jess.'

Rory.

'Come on, Jess. I know you're in there.'

Jess stood up and went for the door, pausing with his fingers around the doorknob. It made a clinking sound under the weight of his hand.

'Hey,' her voice sounded from the other side of the door. This time it was softer. 'Come on, Jess. Let me in. Please.'

Slowly, he unlocked the door and stepped back. He could hear her open the door and step into the narrow hallway.

'Hey,' her voice sounded less muffled now, only timid. 'I... thought you could use some company.'

Jess leaned back against the wall of the hallway putting his hands into the pockets of his jeans and resting his head back.

Last Monday Julian Thompson had his brain tumor operated on. The surgery had gone well. Excellent even. Shefield had done her best job. Julian had been taken to the ICU for further monitoring. He woke up yesterday. He opened his eyes, squinting at the bright light in the ICU. He requested to meet his doctors. Doctor Mariano and doctor Shefield. The ones who had given his life back. Julian squeezed Jess' hand so hard, tears of happiness choking him as he thanked his doctor for his help and wished him he could get his sight back the way he, Julian himself had. And Jess wished. God, did he wish.

Everything seemed to be going well until today Julian suddenly lost consciousness and fell into clinical death. Immediate CPR had been started but the reanimation team couldn't bring him back. The cause of death was defined a couple of hours later as late postoperative internal carotid artery rupture. What everyone feared would happen during the surgery happened, only it did one week later.

Jess left work early. He needed to get away. Away from what, he couldn't tell exactly. Just... away. Away from the scene of his crushed hopes. Away from the death of his silly, naive enthusiasm to change his faith. He was in a state of numbness. Beyond disappointment. Beyond desperation. He simply wanted to disappear. To forget. But here she was, the exact reason he couldn't forget.

'It's not a good time, Rory,' he said with a strained voice, trying desperately not to inflict his loss on her.

'That's exactly why I'm here,' she said simply.

 _Because that's when you need someone the most._

He heard her make her way into the living room. He followed.

'I'm in a bad place right now,' he admitted, pausing at the doorway to the living room.

'I'll stay with you for a while,' she said from the direction where his armchair stood next to his couch. 'Just for a while. Then I'll leave.'

He sighed and gave her a weary nod, praying to God he didn't throw some angry fit in front of her. He honestly didn't know what to expect from himself tonight. He knew that if he felt like throwing things he probably would. So much for keeping his emotions in check.

He sat down on the couch. He didn't ask her if she wanted something to drink. She couldn't have missed Cerberus' wailing from the balcony. She didn't ask him why he'd left his dog outside. They stood in silence, listening to each other's breathing, letting each other's presence settle around. Minutes passed. Then more minutes. At some point she stood up to pour herself a glass of water, then resumed her position in the armchair. More minutes passed. Probably an hour or so. Jess thought she might've dozed off when he heard her move, standing up, taking her things.

'Okay,' she said almost to herself and prepared to leave, moving towards the hallway.

She had reached the hallway when she paused.

'Do you think of all the good things we've been missing?' she asked quietly. 'Of all the stuff you denied yourself of?'

He let out a slow sigh, folding and unfolding his fists.

He had thought about it. Of course he had.

'Because sometimes I think - all the effort we put into staying away from each other, if we put it into actually being together, wouldn't it take less energy?'

'Ror...' his voice was raspy, heavy with emotion.

'I know,' she sighed and probably waved the thought off. 'It's just something that keeps bothering me. That we're letting it roll. And time keeps going by, filling with memories we'll never make...' she paused and he heard her swallow back a lump. 'And you keep telling me it feels wrong to be together after what happened, but there is still so much love left between us, and I don't see how love is wrong.'

His face cringed with the weight of her words. It still hurt. After months of telling himself there was no other way, it still hurt just like it did that day when he told her he wasn't bigger than this, that he couldn't rise above.

'Good night, Jess.'

'How...' his voice cracked and she must've heard him take a steadying breath because she didn't move. She waited. 'How do you know if it's...'

'I don't,' he heard the bitter smile in her voice, the lump in her throat. 'I just know that dancing around each other only makes it worse. I have no idea how to fix this, but I'd rather figure it out with you than beat myself for not being able to walk away.'

His feet moved on their own accord, leading him closer to her. He felt her proximity like static over his skin, like something foreign and exciting. It was strange, given how used he once was to her presence around him, ever present, ever close.

* * *

She had paused with her hand still on the doorknob. As she felt his approach she turned to face him. He hovered over her, leaning an arm above her head. She had almost forgotten how their height difference made it natural to rest her head over his shoulder. Or how stable his frame was above hers. She wouldn't be able to make him move. Not that she was trying. But the mere thought felt strange, like an antique from a faraway time.

His eyes were fixed on hers, probably by an old habit because she knew he couldn't see her. Yet, he was still the only person who could really see her.

She stood still, waiting. It was his decision, his move to make and she waited. Missing what they used to have wasn't simply about missing the physical contact or the friendship. It was missing the intimacy, the ability to get immersed into each other and build a relationship based on trust and selflessness, on complete devotion. Since the breakup the foundations of their relationship were missing. He'd denied them. He'd built a barrier and had left the trust and devotion behind it, beyond her reach. He'd taken himself out of the equation. She knew his reasons. She even understood most of them. It still hurt.

Like being pulled by an invisible force, he leaned close. So close. When they took a breath at the same time, his stubble grazed her cheek. Would kissing him bring the same feeling of overpowering desperation, of wanting to burst and close in at the same time? God, she ached to touch him - he was so close she could almost feel his heart hammering in both their chests.

Painfully familiar, the woodsy smell of his cologne set off a thousand alarms along her limbic system.

He was breathing through his mouth, small gasps of air to take him through each second. He leaned an inch closer and their cheeks were touching in a cautious embrace. His hands followed, descending to trail the outline of her shoulders, sliding down her arms, finding their place at her waist, palms warm and steady. She had missed the feeling of his palms on her waist, the security they brought along.

Control was quickly slipping away, Jess realized at the back of his mind. He was letting himself have a moment of weakness, of giving in to his need for her. His skin still remembered her, still missed her. But the need for her reached so much further than his body. She was still the ultimate meaning behind anything he did. Yet, he couldn't help but wonder at the back of his mind - once this moment was over, would they find themselves back to point zero? He was so hungry for the light she brought, he had let a crack in his shell open and now more and more rays were streaming in, the crack opening wider, taking all of him in. And just like that, his mind snapped. Like short circuit - she was a lightning and his mind exploded.

Rory felt his tongue over her collarbone. Then his lips. Tasting at first, then claiming. Searching if she was still his.

His palms were still on her hips, as if to try and keep her there in case she wasn't real.

She arched forward as his thumbs drew semicircles along her waistline. Then, as if on an impulse, he slid his hands up to take hold of her torso and turned her around. His palms found hers against the wall, his chest against her back. As their fingers intertwined his lips were back against her neck, mumbling something unintelligible. Her head fell back against his shoulder. He moved one hand to her throat, his thumb caressing her neck as his lips continued to move against her nape.

There was something ... _honest_ about him tonight. Like one of his confessions - intense, intimate... and so not taking them anywhere. Yet, it felt right to know they were together in this. She was ready to take whatever he was going to give. He was giving in to his desire and she was ready to give in with him. Even if it was to reach a brief, elusive moment of intimacy. It was like after being unable to find each other in the dark for so long, now they were granted a translucent picture of what it could be had they not ended things, had they held on. Not being able to be with him had felt so wrong. Being free from him had been the worst torture she had ever experienced. Even if she was his escape tonight, she was gonna be whatever he needed and she wanted whatever part of himself he was willing to give.

She thought she heard his voice but wasn't completely sure.

His hand moved from her throat down her chest bone, sliding against her waist, down thigh, reaching her knee, just under the rim of her dress. His palm was hot against her skin and a wave of goosebumps chased after his touch.

His fingertips moved up the front of her thigh in the softest of caresses. An inch. Then another. So slowly. She felt her breathing speed. Then, as the hem of her dress bunched against her midthigh, he came to a halt.

'Talk to me,' he mumbled into her hair, resting his forehead against the crown of her head.

She squeezed her eyes shut and licked a lip, resting her forehead against the door.

'What...' Her throat felt like she'd run ten miles. She swallowed dryly. 'What do you wanna hear?'

His body was tense behind her, a bowstring ready to aim.

'Something true. Tell me something true.'

Right here - this was what it felt to fall in love with him. Those moments of clarity, when he laid himself bare in front of her. At moments like these she felt herself fall further in love with him. She could share anything and she could trust him to do the same.

Something true.

'I don't wanna get over you.'

She heard him take a sharp intake of air. His hold on her hand against the wall became tighter.

'More,' his voice came out a bit strangled but the plea in it was unmistakable.

A tear rolled out of her squeezed eyes.

'Every day I wake up and promise myself I won't be waiting around for you to come back but end up doing exactly that.'

'I don't wanna hurt each other anymore,' she continued in a small voice. 'I wish you never gave up on me.'

He turned her around and buried his face in the crook of her neck. His palms found the sides of her face and held her with such gentleness as if she were the most fragile thing in the world.

He stood like this, lips pressed against her skin, palms cradling her face.

His hands were slightly trembling when he dropped them to her waist.

She cradled his head between both arms.

'I missed you so much,' she stroked his hair in a soothing manner although she was the one crying.

'God, I miss you,' he sighed, his lips pausing against her salty jaw. And he let himself miss her, the need for her consuming him. He made love to her over and over and in the darkness of his lonely existence she felt like an explosion of color and light.

* * *

 _'You've gotten into my bloodstream_

 _I can feel you flowing in me_

 _The spaces in between_

 _Two minds and all the places they have been'_

Rory woke up feeling the morning rays of sun warm her face. As sleep withdrew from her eyes, she sat into the bed and looked around to find she was alone. She had a feeling of growing unease rumbling in her chest. As she went around the apartment looking for him the feeling grew. Because she knew exactly where he was. As she entered the kitchen, a pair of calm dark eyes met hers and she covered her mouth with both her hands, a strangled sob leaving her throat, barely aware of the black Labrador nuzzling her feet.

 _'Jess.'_

 _'Mmm.'_

 _'Tell me something true.'_

 _A sigh._

 _'Tell me without thinking twice, tell me what you're thinking about?'_

 _'Tomorrow I was expected to check into a neurosurgery hospital and have the bullet removed.'_

* * *

Miles away a man in dark shades was signing informed consent papers.

'Jess Mariano, MD. Here says you're a doctor?'

The man nodded.

'Welcome to St Mary's Neurosurgery Department, Dr Mariano.'

* * *

 **END OF 'ADVERSE EVENTS CONTINUED'. A SEQUEL TITLED 'ADVERSE EVENTS S3' WILL BE UP SOON, SO STAY TUNED.  
**


	40. The Sequel Is Now Up

**Hey there!**

 **To everyone who's interested in what happens next - the sequel, called 'Adverse Events S3' is now up with its first chapter :)**

 **Hope we continue this journey together!**

 **Love,**

 **lost and found**


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